Nothing That I Wouldn't Try
by scarlettshazam
Summary: Bebe decides to take her roommate Kenny to Disneyland for his twenty first birthday. They inadvertently acquire a couple of roadtrip companions, making for a bumpy ride. Kenbe, minor Cryde.
1. Hang from the Sun

**Chapter Track: Girl – Beck**

Clyde looks as though he's ready to fall over from exhaustion when he comes trudging into the Harbucks. It's a hot day outside for May, five degrees short of one hundred. Clyde's postman uniform includes shorts, but a sheen of sweat still coats his forehead, making his hair stick to his skin.

"You want your usual?" asks Bebe, as he draws up to the counter, panting slightly.

Clyde nods and says, "Can I get a cup of water, too?" He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand and gives her a tired smile. Clyde used to be much more in shape than he is now – he was on the football team in high school. Bebe briefly dated him during that time, until they were making on his bed and he blurted out _I can't do this, I'm sorry, I like boys. _He'd turned bright red with his admission, holding his hand over his mouth like he wanted to take the words back, before he begged her not to say anything about what he'd just told her. He looked like he wanted to cry, but by then he didn't cry as much anymore. Bebe still hasn't told anybody Clyde's secret, but then, neither has Clyde. She isn't even certain that Craig knows, and Craig is Clyde's best friend, and is shockingly candid about his own sexuality.

Clyde is one of Bebe's closest friends, too. Since Butters left, Clyde is the most happy-go-lucky person that she knows in town, and never fails to cheer her up when everything else in her world seems to be falling apart. At least she's happily single – God knows the last thing Bebe needs right now is the fancy babysitting gig that most people call "a relationship." She has Kenny and Clyde, and that's all she needs.

Despite his cheerful outside, she knows that he struggles some days. Clyde has many loves, but occasionally lets his sadness get the best of him. He's nothing like Stan, who drinks himself into a stupor to forget how miserable he is, but Bebe has held Clyde on her couch before and let him cry into her shoulder. He said that he missed his mom – who passed away when he was ten – but he didn't cry when his mom died. That wasn't how he grieved. Bebe thinks that it might have been Craig that made him cry. She doesn't like Craig. He makes Clyde cry more than anything else. Because really, Clyde doesn't cry much anymore. But when he does, she knows that it's his best friend that's done it to him.

Craig is an awful human being, or so Bebe has always thought. He's intentionally mean, especially to Clyde, who doesn't deserve it even a little bit. Bebe is of the opinion that Craig is a waste of space. All he does is hunker down in his parents' basement and tend to seven guinea pigs, according to Clyde.

Bebe makes Clyde his vanilla frappuccino and brings it him with a plastic cup of ice water. She sits across from him even though she isn't on her break. They don't get much foot traffic in Harbucks. South Park is a small town, and many people are suspicious of the chain stores that have emerged in the past few years.

"I was thinking I'd take Kenny to Denver for his birthday," Bebe says absently, "That's what we did for my twenty-first, and he'll be happy to see Stan, I think." His birthday's only a couple weeks away, but Bebe is terrible at planning, and couldn't pull together anything resembling the party that he deserves. She knows Kenny would be happy with anything, but…

"But I kind of want to do something more," she sighs, putting her face in her hands. She's only three-quarters of the way through her shift, but the heat makes her sleepy, like her body is telling her that the day is already over.

Clyde sucks contentedly at the straw in his frappuccino. The high color in his cheeks is going down a little, which is good. Bebe would hate to be him in this heat, walking from mailbox to mailbox while the sun beats down on his back, and he gets chased by Mr. Garrison's dog, who always outside without a leash. Clyde is too nice to complain, even though he has a scar on his calf from being bitten, once. He slurps down a gulp of water and says, "Shit, brain freeze," clutching his head.

"Clyde? Are you listening to me?" Bebe asks, quirking a brow.

He sheepishly smiles and says, "Yeah – um. Maybe you could take him to Elitches or something. You guys like rollercoasters and stuff, don't you?" Rollercoasters – something Clyde is terrified of unless somebody is holding him close and he can close his eyes.

Kenny loves rollercoasters (more pointedly, he loves doing stupid shit while they're _on_ rollercoasters and giving Bebe the scare of her life).

"That's not a bad idea," Bebe muses. The bell at the door rings – it's Sharon Marsh, looking a little ragged around the edges. She and Randy are in the final stages of their divorce, and it's taken a toll. Bebe gets up to take her drink order, which is an iced caramel macchiato. When she returns to the table, Clyde has polished off his frappuccino and is texting rapidly on his phone.

God, but she wants to do something more special for this birthday. Bebe's was last month, and it was good, but nothing like the kind of present that she wants to get for Kenny. They got themselves trashed together in Denver, with Stan there, almost like old times. Stan is the only other one of their friends that stayed in Colorado – all the others that in state are people that Bebe never really got close to, like Bill or Tammy.

Even fewer of their classmates remained in South Park after high school graduation, not that Kenny ever graduated. He started working at the garage when he was only sixteen. He doesn't take breaks, not even one. Kenny is single-handedly putting Karen through school in Boulder. Most months he pays his parents' bills in addition to theirs, and occasionally houses Kevin when he's been thrown out by his wife. Other than that, it's Bebe, Clyde and Craig. The others only visit on holidays, and even then, most of their friends go out of their way to avoid their hometown. Bebe hates it – but she misses them. Almost against her will, she wishes all her old friends were right back where they belong, which is with her. But no, they're out doing bigger and better things, while she's still got the same job she's had since she was seventeen.

Not that she can complain. She works her tailored shifts at Harbucks and goes straight home when it's done. Kenny slaves over his job even though he's been told that he doesn't have to, and he hasn't taken a single vacation since he started working.

"Oh, fuck," Bebe says, struck by an epiphany, "What if I took him to Disneyland?"

Clyde's attention jerks from the screen of his phone and he says, "I want to go to Disneyland."

"You already had your birthday," Bebe reminds him.

"Yeah, and you got me a juicer – that's not the same as Disneyland!" exclaims Clyde.

"You _asked _for a juicer," Bebe says, "and anyway, you've already been to Disneyland. Kenny hasn't even been out of the state. He grew up too poor. Hell, he's still too poor. But that's not his fault."

"The car is his fault," Clyde says, "He didn't need that car."

_The car_ refers to Kenny's recent purchase of a BMW convertible – to be fair, he bought it off of an old man that had crashed it and crunched in the front hood for cheap. Kenny lovingly restored it to its original beauty and named her Goldilocks, for reasons unknown, as the car is red. No, he didn't need it, but Bebe is convinced that _the car_ has made Kenny a little bit happier, and is therefore a worthwhile purchase.

"Okay, but do you think it's too much? I mean, we'd drive, I guess," Bebe says, "I could call into his work and ask for the time off. You know they never say no to me."

"They never say no to your boobs," simpers Clyde, "That's different."

"Fine, I'll ask for it in person," Bebe says, "but I'm totally gonna do this. I'm gonna take him to Disneyland."

"Can I come?" Clyde asks.

"If Kenny's okay with it, I don't see why not," says Bebe, "but you're buying your own ticket."

Clyde groans, but Bebe knows that he'll do just about anything to come along. If he does ask Kenny about joining them, she doubts that Kenny will say no. He's always been a firm believer of "the more, the merrier."

After work, Bebe drops by the grocery store. She buys a pint of ice cream and purchases the Disneyland tickets at the customer service counter, where they're sold next to the cigarettes and lottery scratch cards. Shelly Marsh tucks them into a red envelope with Mickey Mouse ear decorations without smiling.

Bebe is relieved to finally go home and looks forward to being able to flop onto the couch and dig into the pint of butter pecan. When she gets there, Kenny is still gone. The mail isn't lying out on the table, and so Kenny hasn't returned home from work, even though the sun is going down. He works too damn hard – she's always told him so, though Bebe doesn't think he believes her. It's a product of his upbringing, or so he says. "I was born to be lazy" – but he isn't. His life is constant overtime at the appropriately named South Park Garage. Nobody fixes cars like Kenny. He makes machines work like they're made with magic. Bebe would know. He tunes up her crappy Civic from time to time and it runs like a dream.

Their dog barks when she comes in, pawing at the front of her crate. It's Bebe's dog, really, though Hufflepuff and Kenny have a pretty tight relationship (Kenny likes to slip her treats when he thinks Bebe isn't looking).

Bebe lets Hufflepuff out of her crate before she slips out into the hallway and picks up their mail from their box. It's nothing important, only a couple of bills and a handful of junk mail, but it's the perfect amount of camouflage for Kenny's birthday present. She slips the red envelope into the pile, close to the bottom, and places the mail on the kitchen counter.

Though Bebe considers herself to be close to Clyde, Kenny is Bebe's best friend. Her best friend once was Wendy, but Wendy's off living a new life at some fancy university on the east coast. She's in a sorority, and posts pictures of herself smiling arm in arm with other pretty women that look just as ambitious as Wendy is. They talk on AIM sometimes, but as the months fly by, it's been less and less. Kenny's the one that stays up with her and watches Buffy the Vampire Slayer, the one who gets her popsicles when she's not feeling well, and he's the one that stood by her through the mess of her last breakup. They get drunk together, go to the gym together, pig out on junk food together – everything, really. When their best friends dispersed, they came together. It was out of necessity at first. Bebe and Kenny both wanted to escape their houses and strike out on their own. Being that they were the only ones left to do so, they leased their apartment together. It's turned out to be one of Bebe's better decisions, even if she does have to remind him to put the toilet seat down and not keep his bong on the coffee table.

They've opted to keep sex and love out of the equation when it comes to their relationship. That was the unofficial part of the deal when Bebe cosigned the lease for their apartment with him when they weren't even nineteen. They find each other attractive, of course they do, but in order to live comfortably they steer as clear as they can away from love-related drama.

Satisfied, she retreats to her bedroom, where she wiggles out of her Harbucks uniform and into a pair of lightweight, skimpy pajamas. It's almost June, now, and Bebe's glad to see that summer is just around the bend. She can hardly wait for the popsicles and the pools and the annual camping trip that she and Kenny established two years ago, always at the end of August.

When she emerges from her bedroom, Kenny has just come through the door. He's in his jumpsuit, naturally filthy, with his blond hair looking more dirty brown than golden and sticking up all angles. He greets with an exhausted-sounding voice and half-hearted wink, "Hey, pretty lady." Hufflepuff bounds up to Kenny on her fat little legs, and he reaches down to give her a scratch behind the ears, mumbling out affectionate names that he'd only ever give to a dog.

"Hey, yourself," Bebe says. She wonders briefly if she should let him take a shower and kick back before any gift-giving, but she doesn't want to wait. She wants him to find the fucking tickets now. It's her best idea for a birthday present yet, though last year's practical jumbo box of condoms certainly did see its use. Bebe has spent many nights with her headphones in her ears, pretending she can't hear what's going on in Kenny's bedroom. He always brings home the prettiest girls. The girls he brings are of varied shape and size, but they're always, always beautiful.

Bebe decides that she can't wait and gestures toward the counter, "There's some mail for you."

Kenny grunts as he ducks down to unlace his work boots, shoving them in their place beside the door, in a distinctly uncarpeted area. He tramps over and sifts through the envelopes, setting aside one of the bills with a mumble of _oh, for fuck's sake_. His hands freeze when he comes to the more colorful packaging of her gift.

"You didn't," he says, "Bebe. You – didn't." He finishes lamely. He glances from the red envelope to her face, mouth half-open in what Bebe hopes is surprise.

"I did," she replies, "I figured we could have a little roadtrip out west. Happy birthday." She yanks him into a hug by his waist, even though he smells like oil and dirt and body odor. He's Kenny, that's all, and it's kind of perfect that he got his birthday present while he's in his element.

Kenny wraps an arm around her shoulders and grins, rendered apparently speechless. He runs a hand through his greasy hair lets out a long, happy laugh before he says, "Fuck me, I've always wanted to go to Disneyland." The grin on his face stretches from ear to ear.

Bebe never forgot the look on his face when, in her senior year of high school, Stan was groaning about his family being dragged to Disneyland by his father. Kenny looked almost wounded, like he'd have gladly taken Stan's place any fucking day of the week. She thought of that face when she walked from work to the grocery store, and then how he had followed up by saying, _I'd like to take Karen on over to Disneyland someday. _That had made Stan shut his mouth on the matter, and he'd looked guilty for the rest of the day.

"I can't believe you did this," he says this into her hair, and she can hear his smile. It makes her feel full and happy. Selfishly, Bebe loves giving gifts because she loves feeling people's happiness. It fuels her. Maybe that's creepy, and maybe it's mean that she leeches off other people's joy and thrives from it, but she loves this.

Kenny pulls out of their hug, rubbing his nose on his arm. He comments, "Got your jammies all dirty," with a hoarse laugh.

They part. Kenny showers and Bebe changes into a new set of pajamas. She scoots back onto her bed, against the headboard with her headphones in her ears, staring at a blank sheet of lined paper in her notebook. She's had a block for weeks now, and it's driving her crazy. Usually poetry flows out onto the paper as if it's leaking from her fingertips, but since April she's only been able to spill out clunky wording and contrived rhymes.

The shower shuts off and wet footsteps sound. A few minutes later, Kenny struts into her bedroom in nothing but a worn pair of heart-patterned boxer shorts. He flops onto her mattress face-up and asks, "How was your day?" in a cloying, teasing tone.

"Meh," expresses Bebe, "Same old. You?"

"I came home intending to bitch about work, but somebody got me motherfucking tickets to _Disneyland_, and now I can't be cantankerous anymore."

Bebe laughs and kicks his shoulder. She says, "Clyde wants to come. I told him he could ask you."

"Fuck yeah, dude, let's make it a party," Kenny says, "We should take Goldilocks."

Bebe cocks a brow, "That seems ill-advised. She'll get all – like, dirty. I dunno."

"What's the point of having a fast car if I never get to drive it fast?" asks Kenny, "We can blaze down that highway." He makes a _whoosh_ noise and splays out his hands to illustrate.

"We'll get pulled over."

"Fuck cops, I can outdrive them."

"You'll get us arrested," Bebe pointedly says.

"Street cred."

Bebe rolls her eyes and shoves him out of her bed, onto the carpet. She says, "Don't forget to comb your hair before you go to sleep. We'll talk logistics later, okay?"

"Yes, mom," Kenny says, but she knows that he appreciates the reminder. He pulls up onto his feet and draws Bebe into a half hug, before exiting her bedroom with a sarcastic salute.

Bebe closes the door behind him, padding back to her bed. She shoves aside her notebook, resolving not to think of her writer's block. As sleep settles into her, she listens to the noises of Kenny getting ready for bed: water running, teeth brushing, and hushed swear words when he remembers to comb out his hair and hits a snag. Excitement bubbles up someplace underneath her ribs, and she falls asleep with a smile firmly on her face.

**o.o.o.o**

Kenny isn't scheduled in the morning like he prefers to be, so he uses the time to take the stairs up to Clyde's apartment – there's only one complex in their tiny town, and it's mostly empty, but it's convenient when you're looking to visit somebody. He knocks musically on Clyde's door, which opens a few seconds later. Clyde wears nothing but his striped boxers and towel on his head. He looks surprised to see Kenny.

"Hey, what's up?" asks Clyde, "You wanna come in?"

Kenny struts into the apartment, helping himself to a cookie sitting on a cooling rack on Clyde's kitchen counter. He takes a bite before he says, "You wanna come to Disneyland?"

Clyde's face breaks into a grin. Kenny's always liked that about Clyde – unlike any of Kenny's high school friends, the simplest things could make Clyde smile (though occasionally, the simplest things could make him cry, too, and still do – Kenny has never asked about the times when he has come home to Clyde and Bebe all cuddled up on the couch together, tear tracks still on Clyde's face). Clyde gives an eager nod. He answers, "Oh, God, I want to so bad, but –"

"But?" Kenny asks, frowning.

Clyde fidgets, biting on his lower lip. He continues, "But I'd feel really bad if we left out Craig. Is it alright if Craig comes, too?"

"Um," Kenny says, unsure of how to respond. Bebe hates Craig. Kenny doesn't necessarily _mind_ Craig, but he does think that Craig is a waste of space. All he does is sit on his computer and play games, or tend to his small army of guinea pigs – he has like seven or eight of the bastards, something ridiculous. When Craig does emerge from his underground den, he's an asshole to everybody. Maybe because the sun puts vampiric dickwads in bad moods, who knows.

"I know you guys don't really like him," Clyde says, "but I think he'd feel left out if we didn't at least invite him."

Kenny has always thought that Craig is a little lonely, too, which explains the surplus of guinea pig companions. He sighs. It's _his_ birthday roadtrip, but he does feel bad for Craig. And there's nothing Craig could really do to _ruin_ it. It's not like he's Cartman or anything. Kenny agrees reluctantly, "Alright, he can come. I guess."

Clyde brightens. He retreats back into his bedroom and Kenny follows him as Clyde pulls on a fresh t-shirt from a laundry basket on the floor, followed by a pair of shorts. He responds, "Awesome! Now, um, could you come with me? To invite him?"

"What? Why?" asks Kenny.

"Because if I do it alone, he'll think that I had to convince you to give him a pity invite," answers Clyde, pulling socks onto his feet.

"But that's exactly what you did," Kenny says.

Clyde responds, "I know! But – please?"

Kenny's plans for the morning weren't particularly important – he had a bowl of Fruity Pebbles and a viewing of Aladdin in mind, and maybe taking Hufflepuff for a walk. He sighs again, which Clyde seems to take pointed notice of, and says, "Alright, fine. Craig is a smart dude though, man. He's gonna know that you put me up to this."

"Yeah, but – you'll be there. So it's not like I held you at gunpoint or anything," Clyde defends.

Clyde slips on a pair of filthy sneakers that Kenny's pretty sure he's owned since high school, and they head out. It's a nice morning; the heat hasn't overtaken the town completely yet. A soft breeze rustles their clothes, bringing with it the scent of pine trees and the nearby highway.

At the Tuckers' house, Craig's father is outside, watering his rosebushes diligently. Kenny doesn't know he does it. The climate is terrible for those poor plants, but somehow, Thomas Tucker makes his roses look nothing short of perfect, tenderly caring for them every weekend with a garden hose and a pair of shears.

When he sees them shuffling up the walk, Thomas wipes a gloved hand over his sweaty forehead. He greets, "Morning, Clyde. Kenny." He looks puzzled as to why Kenny would be there, which is fair. Kenny's feeling a little puzzled himself.

"Is Craig awake?" asks Clyde. Kenny finds himself surprised that Clyde doesn't know Craig's exact sleeping schedule.

Thomas nods, "He's playing that game of his."

Clyde lets them into the house. It's impeccably neat inside, though the décor is ugly, and there's a glass case of Precious Moments figurines in the front room. They pass Mrs. Tucker on the way down, and Clyde greets her too, with a tight hug and the kind of smile that most people reserve for their own mothers.

The basement is much dimmer than upstairs. The only light comes from lava lamps, a string of Christmas lights taped up near the ceiling, and the light from a computer screen, at which is seated Craig Tucker. Kenny realizes that he hasn't seen Craig in at least a month – and wonders if Craig ever comes up for air of his own accord, or if people like Clyde or his mother have to force him out of this dingy habitat when things get out of hand. It smells strongly of rodent and patchouli incense – perhaps the latter is meant to cover the former, but it doesn't.

Craig turns around when he hears them on the stairs. He says, "Clyde, what the fuck? You're early," and when he sees Kenny, his faces falls into a full scowl, "What the fuck is McCormick here for?"

The awkwardness in the room is almost as thick as the smell of incense.

Craig rolls away from his computer desk, giving Kenny a better look at him. He looks bedraggled, with a few days' worth of beard, unruly hair stuffed under his hat, and bloodshot eyes. He still wears his pajamas.

"Um," Kenny gets out, "Well – Bebe's taking me on a roadtrip to Disneyland, and I invited Clyde, so like, I guess I wanted to invite you too?"

Craig gives Kenny a jaded expression that clearly says _really? _and folds his arms over his chest. He's put on some weight since Kenny last saw him. He still isn't as filled-out as Clyde, but there is a little pooch of fat right around his abdomen.

"Are you for fucking for real?" Craig asks, "Why would I want to go on a roadtrip with you assholes? Especially since Clyde made you do this. He did, didn't he?"

"They have Toontown in Disneyland!" exclaims Clyde.

"What does that have to do with anything?" mutters Kenny.

"Craig likes the game," Clyde explains, "He –"

"_Clyde_," Craig says sharply, and adds more quietly, "Toontown Online."

Kenny laughs a deep guffaw straight from the belly. He says, "Are you _serious_? That's what you play? Not even like World of Warcraft? You play fucking Toontown Online? Isn't that shit for kids?"

"Fuck you," Craig says, "It's fun."

Kenny takes a couple of steps forward and looks at Craig's computer screen. On it, a fat cartoon mouse is sitting off to the side on a sidewalk, beside a droopy looking mailbox. Above his head is the name "Big Harry Wangendoodle."

"Dude, is that your guy's name?" Kenny asks, "That's fucking hilarious. I hope you made him sound phallic on purpose."

"Of course I made it sound phallic on purpose," snaps Craig. He switches off his monitor and glares at Kenny, "How fucking stupid do you think I am? Now get out. Clyde, c'mere."

Not that Kenny expected Craig to take the invitation well, but he doesn't like being dismissed. He protests, "Come on, Craig. You need to get out of here."

"Not with you, I don't," Craig says. Clyde is at his side, and Craig is stroking his hand where it rests on the arm of Craig's computer chair. It suddenly dawns on Kenny – _they're together. _He doesn't know why it didn't occur to him before. No wonder Clyde is over at their house in tears all the time. If Kenny had to spend that much time with Craig, he'd probably cry, too.

Kenny decides to resort to the most childish tactic in his book and says, "Maybe if you came with us, you'd be less of a smelly loser."

Clyde's brows fly up into his thick brown hair, like he can't believe that Kenny actually called his lover a "smelly loser." But it seems to work. Craig makes a face and says, "Eat shit, Kenny. I'll come on your roadtrip. But only if you get down on your knees and beg me."

Kenny rolls his eyes, but something in Craig's tone says he needs Kenny to do this to validate the request. Kenny doesn't even know why he's going through so much effort to get somebody he doesn't give two shits about come on his birthday roadtrip, but he thinks it might have to do with the wide-eyed look of pleading on Clyde's face. Kenny drops to his knees and holds his hands together. Flatly, he says, "Please, oh, please, Craig, come on my birthday roadtrip, and maybe you'll be less of a smelly loser."

Craig flicks his wrist and says, "I'll go. Now leave."

Kenny doesn't bother disobeying this time, because Craig's hand is crawling suspiciously close to Clyde's zipper, and Kenny doesn't want to know what happens when the shorts come off.

Back at their apartment, Bebe is already at work, though she's left behind the scent of her shampoo and lotion, both of which Kenny uses sometimes because they smell so fucking nice. Kenny eats his cereal and changes into his jumpsuit. He locks Hufflepuff in her crate and makes sure that his turtle is comfortable before he laces on his boots and heads to the garage.

At work it's a pretty slow day, and Kenny spends the bulk of his time sitting on his ass, smoking through a pack of cigarettes, and switching between flipping through a Maxim and a fantasy paperback that Kyle recommended to him some months ago.

A couple hours before his shift ends, a leggy brunette has her car towed in, reporting that she was on her way through the mountains when it broke down. She looks like the sporty, hiking type girl, with muscled, tan arms and no makeup on her freckled face. Kenny's flirting in the end is rewarded, when he convinces her to come back to the apartment with him.

She's even prettier under her clothes, with small breasts and square hips.

Not a bad day at all.

**o.o.o.o**

Bebe takes on an extra few hours when Richard Tweak says that he's going to be late, and leaves work exhausted, so tired that she can feel it in her bones. At the apartment door she can hear Hufflepuff barking, which means the poor dog probably hasn't gone outside today – Kenny probably fell asleep on the couch with a beer in his hand again.

When she's inside, Bebe is hit with the sound of happy moaning coming from Kenny's bedroom. She sighs loudly, wishing that he hadn't chosen today to bring a girl home. She lifts Hufflepuff out of her crate and brings her down to the patch of grass outside their building. Kenny and the girl are still going at it when she returns and feeds Hufflepuff a treat, so Bebe changes into her pajamas and curls up on the couch with the TV up loud, drowning out the sexual cacophony.

The girl emerges first, hair a mess and clothing hastily tucked back into place. Her eyes go wide when she sees Bebe and says, "Shit, are you his girlfriend?"

Bebe laughs and shakes her head, "No, just the roommate. I'm Bebe." She holds out her hand for a shake, but the girl doesn't take it.

Instead, the girl turns a deep shape of red and says, "Oh, um, and you're sure you're not his girlfriend?"

"Last time I checked," Bebe dryly responds.

The girl leans in and whispers, "He said your name when he came."

Bebe laughs again, louder this time and replies, "Shit, I'm sorry. I'll give him hell for it, I promise." She made the same mistake once before, but it was all the way back in high school with a boy from North Park, and he didn't know who Kenny was, so nobody ever found out about her slip up. She didn't know why she'd said it – she and Kenny had never, and to this day have never, slept together. But it slipped out anyway.

The girl slips on her tennis shoes and leaves, still pink in the face as though Bebe had actually walked in and caught them mid-fuck.

Bebe smiles when Kenny comes out, wearing only a pair of plaid pajama pants that are slightly too short in the leg. She grins at him and cocks a brow, prompting him to ask, "What?"

"How was it?" Bebe asks.

He shrugs his shoulders and responds, "Pretty good, I guess."

"You guess? Is that because you accidentally said my name?" she can't contain the giggling, and it explodes in that moment, startling Hufflepuff into a bark.

Kenny goes a little pink and flips her off with a murmured, "Shut up, dude. It was an accident. Like calling your teacher 'mom' or something."

Bebe can't stop laughing, so she gets up and hugs Kenny from behind, laughing into his back. He smells like sex and oil, and like he borrowed her lotion again.

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?" he asks as he opens the fridge. He pulls out some leftover City Wok from a couple of nights ago and sticks the box in their microwave, setting it to heat up.

Bebe grins and answers, "Mm, nope."

"Evil wench," Kenny sighs.

Bebe chuckles, "I try."

They spend the rest of their night watching Game of Thrones, which Kenny refused to purchase when it was on HBO, but just bought the DVDs for. He and Kyle have read the entire series and are a little crazy about it. Kenny has been trying to convince Bebe to pick up the books for months.

Kenny falls asleep first, likely a combination of a long day at work and the energetic sex he had when he came home. He flops over onto her, his head on her stomach, snoring lightly. Bebe switches off the television and runs a hand through his hair. This boy really does deserve a good birthday. She doesn't think that he's ever had one, though his friends did try their best when they still lived here.

She pulls a throw blanket up over both of them, careful not to cover the pug sleeping on Kenny's chest, and snuggles back into the arm of the couch to fall asleep.

Yeah, she'll give him his best birthday yet.

**o.o.o.o**

**A couple things about this story – the primary pairing is obviously het. It's also weirdly happy compared to the rest of what I've written. And also, my updates won't be as fast as they have been in the past, mainly because I have a pile of other things to write, and also a recently busy life. **


	2. Ahoy and Avast

**Chapter Track: You Are A Pirate – Alestorm **

Bebe feels her mouth open as she openly gapes at Kenny in surprise. He pastes a look of innocence to his face as he stuffs clothing into his duffel bag, none of it folded like the half-packed suitcase sitting unzipped on top of Bebe's bed. He runs a hand through his hair, which is already sticking up in every direction and says, "It just sort of happened, dude."

"How does inviting Craig on the road trip just _happen_?" Bebe asks, "He's an asshole!" He doesn't do anything but sit in his basement and make Clyde cry – Bebe has no idea why he'd want to do anything other than continue his reign of terror, let alone actually emerge from his man-cave in his parents' house to actually interact with humanity.

Kenny frowns as he crunches another balled-up t-shirt into his bag and says, "I think he's lonely. C'mon. It's my birthday."

"It isn't your birthday yet," Bebe insists, "And don't give me that look," she adds, when Kenny sticks out his lower lip in a toddler-like pout.

"But – it's my birthday trip," Kenny persists, "Look, I know Craig is kind of a dick, but I want him there, alright?"

"You want him there?" echoes Bebe, "You and Craig hardly even speak. Clyde swindled you into this, didn't he? Don't lie."

Kenny pauses, before he releases a deep sigh and flops back onto his bed. He grabs his pillow and sticks it over his face before answering, "Yeah, he did."

"I knew it," Bebe says.

Kenny moves the pillow away from his face and replies, "And what are you gonna do about it? Tell Clyde no? He's all like…lovesick and stuff."

Lovesick is one way to put it. Bebe thinks that Clyde is a man obsessed, though the obsession has never been vocalized. So much of Clyde's life centers around Craig, and Bebe can't say that she understands it. Once, about a year ago, in the midst of one of Kenny's famed disappearances, Clyde had shown up at their apartment door with a bag of his clothes in hand. He doesn't live with Craig, and never has, but explained at the time that he didn't want Craig to be able to find him for a little bit. That he needed some time to cool down. He'd taken a few days off of work and slept in Kenny's bed. Mostly he just watched cartoons and ate all the ice cream in the freezer, though sometimes Bebe would come home from work and try to distract him with a board game or a walk to Stark's Pond.

On Clyde's fourth night there, there was a knock at the door.

Craig, of course, was on her stoop. He shoved his way into the apartment without so much as a hello or _may I come in_? and demanded, "Where is he? I know you have him," in the same tone one may use if they were accusing a kidnapper of holding their child hostage.

Clyde had come out of Bebe's bedroom instantly at the sound of Craig's voice, and they'd disappeared back into the room after a solid minute of staring each other down. To this day, Clyde says that they didn't have sex, but that he and Craig did lie down on her bed and talk very quietly.

She'd wanted to eavesdrop, but couldn't justify it – somehow, anything emotional involving Craig Tucker felt private.

When they'd emerged a couple hours later, they did not look or smell as though they had had sex, and Bebe isn't quite certain that there was much talking, either, because Craig had historically been a man of few words. Clyde had lingered for a moment longer than Craig, who'd impatiently called Clyde with several repeats of "come on" and "let's go." Clyde had explained nothing and said little, only "We figured some stuff out."

And to this day, she hasn't told Kenny about that incident. He'd returned from his disappearance two days after Clyde left the apartment. There was no evidence that he'd ever even been there, and so Kenny assumed that she'd been on her own for almost a week (For which he apologized profusely, saying that he'd just needed some time off, but it felt like he was lying, because he looked just as tired as when he had left).

But Kenny's right about one thing – Bebe can't be the one to tell Clyde that, no, Craig may not join them on this birthday road trip, because this birthday road trip is only for fun people and not assholes.

"_You_ go and tell Clyde that Craig can't come," Bebe says, placing a hand on each hip and cocking a brow.

"Ha ha ha," Kenny says flatly, "No."

At Bebe's cocked brow, he cocks his own, and says, "It's my roadtrip. I know it's not _your _ideal. And what the fuck time is it? Isn't Stan supposed to be here already?"

In lieu of dropping Hufflepuff at a doggy daycare and finding somebody to feed Kenny's turtle, Donatello, Bebe and Kenny assigned Stan to the task, on the condition that he could eat any food and drink any beer in the fridge while he stays in their apartment. Kenny was a touch reluctant to agree to the latter stipulation – Stan had problems with binging back in high school, and Kenny only really trusts Stan to drink when Kenny's there to babysit and count his drinks.

Stan doesn't actually appear until Kenny and Bebe have already finished packing and have changed into their pajamas, now parked on the couch watching old Daria episodes, because it's Bebe's favorite, and the television was under Kenny's reign yesterday (which amounted to Spongebob and Adventure Time). Hufflepuff leaps off of the couch to bark when the knock sounds at their apartment door, and Kenny calls over his shoulder, "Come in!"

Stan ducks into the apartment a moment later, looking a little bedraggled from the two hour drive up to South Park, but otherwise pretty good – Bebe thinks that the years have been kind to him, and that getting out of South Park was one of the best decisions that Stan made for himself. He got into too much trouble here, and there aren't enough people that Stan could get lost and be a stranger, which she thinks he likes, not having the entire town know his name and his business. Back when he got arrested a couple days shy of his eighteenth birthday, everybody and their mother knew about his DUI, and the fact that he'd wrecked his mother's car.

Now he's taller, smarter, and even more handsome. He's a biking enthusiast, and it shows in his physique. His shoulders are broad and his arms almost statuesque – and though she's been trying not to look, his ass looks _fine. _Bebe has half a mind to put that handsomeness to good use, but doesn't know that it's a good idea to sleep with the best friend of her roommate, especially as that friend has a tendency to get attached and Bebe – well – doesn't. Stan runs a hand through his longish dark hair and says, "Hey guys," before he ducks down to scratch Hufflepuff behind the ears, while she still barks as though she suspects that Stan will be stealing Bebe's grandmother's silver.

"Hey girlie," he says, making a face at the dog. He plucks her up off of the ground while her tail wags wildly. She's going to get fur all over Stan's Denver Dumb Friends League shirt, though Bebe doubts Stan cares. His job at the Dumb Friends League means that he often finds himself covered in fur.

He slides in next to Kenny on the couch and says, "So, Disneyland."

"I am going to ride some fucking teacups," Kenny says, "And meet Princess Jasmine."

"_Meet_ Princess Jasmine?" Stan asks, cocking a single brow, and laughing when Kenny shoves him.

Kenny chuckles and runs a hand through his blond hair, admitting with a cheeky smile, "Alright, you caught me. I want to get Princess Jasmine in the sack."

Kenny's favorite Disney movie is Aladdin. Once, very drunkenly, Kenny relayed to Bebe that he'd loved it when he was little because he liked the idea that a guy that was poor as dirt and just like him could get the princess. She'd told him that his idea was a little silly and outdated, but was kind of cute, in an inebriated childhood stories sort of a way.

"Dude, I'm so fucking jealous," says Stan, "But I'm more of an Ariel guy, myself."

"Mm," Bebe pitches in, "Flynn Rider." She makes a little purring noise, and Kenny laughs, wrapping his arm around her shoulders.

"Okay, okay," Kenny says, holding up his hands, "Who's the _last_ member of the Disney family that you'd bang? Serious question – I'll give you guys time to think it over."

There's a moment of seriousness, with Daria's flat voice speaking the background. Kenny's the first to answer, perhaps because he's already given the question deep consideration, which wouldn't be a surprise to Bebe. He says, "Prince Charming."

"Cheating," Stan says, "you're straight."

"Suck my dick, Stan, that is not cheating," Kenny says, "Hear me out. Prince Charming was a dumb motherfucker. He wanted to marry a chick before he knew anything about her. I'm just saying, what if like, Cinderella was into folk metal, and folk metal really pissed him off or something? He wouldn't have known, dude. Like I said – dumb motherfucker."

"Dude, all the princes are like that," Stan says, "They're all like, oh look, a hot girl – I wanna marry her."

"Not the later ones," Bebe says, "I mean. They're never going to make a princess that isn't beautiful which is kind of, uh, lame. But. The Beast gave Belle a library and stuff."

"I will give you a library any day, baby," Kenny winks at her and makes a half-hearted pelvic thrust.

Bebe rolls her eyes and says, "Anyway, yeah, probably any of the early princes."

"Nah, that's cheating too," Stan says, "You gotta go for one."

Bebe laughs, but finally settles on, "Well – Prince Phillip was kind of a creeper. So, I'll go with him."

"Mine's Sleeping Beauty," says Stan, "she freaked me out, man. That part where they make her look all green, it weirds me out."

Kenny slips off of the couch and digs around in the fridge, pulling out a beer. He lifts up the bottle and says, "You guys want?"

"Yeah," Stan says, "Thanks dude."

"Only one for me," Bebe says, "A don't drink too much, asshole. You have to drive in the morning. Unless you want Clyde at Goldilocks' wheel."

"Yes, mother," Kenny responds automatically. He pulls out two more beers and passes them to Bebe and Stan respectively. He cracks his open on the edge of the coffee table, which earns him a look from Bebe, which he pretends not to see.

The beer loosens them up a little. Stan talks about school, and the pretty girl in his English course that he's thinking of asking out. Kenny's first question is 'does she have nice tits?' and then 'make sure she's not into folk metal if you're not into it, dude.' Stan rolls his eyes and knocks back a sip of his beer, explaining that she's smart, kind of smarter than him, and so she makes him a little queasy when he thinks about talking to her.

When the night winds down, Kenny's had two beers and Stan has had four, in addition to a couple of glasses of Kenny's cheap whiskey. They help set Stan up on the couch, arranging an extra pillow and even bringing a blanket, though with it being June, it's too hot for that, really. Stan insists that Hufflepuff sleep with him on the couch, and she's more than happy to, parking herself on Stan's soft-looking abdomen.

"Hey," Kenny says, as he switches off the bathroom light. He smells like toothpaste and beer, an odd combination that actually makes Bebe a little light in the head. She's attracted to him, and she always has been – but he says it's the same for him. She likes that they've kept themselves in check, attraction aside.

"Mm?" Bebe respond, tucking a stray curl behind her ear.

"C'mere," Kenny says, opening his arms for a hug.

Bebe steps forward into his arms. Kenny gives thorough hugs – the kind that are tight, where he strokes hair and squeezes shoulders, and you'll stand together for a few long seconds like he's trying to breathe you in. He does it with everybody. He says, "Hey, thanks for…this. It's like the coolest thing that anybody's ever given me, dude."

"Fuck, will you two get a room already!" Stan calls, sounding a little more than slightly drunk.

"Whatever, dude, you're just jealous that I have a cool roommate," Kenny calls back, though his grip on Bebe loosens. Kenny reports that Stan's roommate is a stick in the mud that gets mad when Stan leaves the slightest hair out of place in their apartment, but Stan refuses to find a new one because his roommate pays most of the rent ("Probably because he's an annoying little prick and pays people so they can actually stomach his shit," Kenny says).

They separate after that, their bedroom doors clicking shut behind each of them. Bebe trips over her packed polka-dotted suitcase in the dark and face plants onto her mattress. With a cough, she straightens herself and crawls up to lie back on her pillow. She doesn't fall asleep right away, a product of being too excited. Despite the fact that _Craig,_ of all the awful people, is joining them, she's looking forward to vacation. Maybe she'll overcome her writer's block, and maybe she'll get to see Kenny look well-rested and carefree for once.

Bebe smiles at that, and falls asleep with good things on her mind.

**o.o.o.o**

"Rise and shine, baby doll."

Bebe cracks open her eyes to see Kenny hovering above her, already showered and dressed in cargo shorts and a t-shirt with the name of a metal band that Bebe doesn't recognize splashed across the front of it. He's wearing his old beat-up boots and his dad's old trucker hat over his blond hair, and a wide, eager grin on his face. As soon as he sees that she is awake, he dives onto her bed next to her and says, "It's already half-past seven and we still need to go get our favorite dickhead from his parents' house."

"Mm, where's Clyde?" asks Bebe.

"On the couch with Stan and Hufflepuff," answers Kenny, "Let's get cracking. I wanna get to Disneyland as soon as I can." With that, he's off like a rocket, whistling something jaunty and out of tune as he exits her bedroom.

Bebe groans and rolls over, pressing her face into her pillow. She's so much less of a morning person than Kenny – she's always pumped right before they go to bed, when Kenny has already fallen asleep and won't be awake until the sun is just peeking over the horizon. She allows herself a couple more minutes snuggled up in her sheets before she forces herself up. She brushes her teeth and picks out her curls before slipping on the pink and red floral dress that she'd left out the night before and pushing canvas flats onto her feet.

She emerges from her room with her polka dotted suitcase and yawns, "Kay, I'm ready to go." She figures that if they're going to be in the car all day, there's no use in putting on makeup. Clyde and Kenny have seen her without makeup before, and she doesn't care what Craig thinks because he's a dick.

Kenny exaggerates a whistle as she tromps forward and says, "You look classy."

"I look like I just woke up," Bebe says before indicating to her suitcase and adding, "I'm gonna go load this into the car."

Kenny and Clyde follow her down the stairs, offering to help her with her suitcase. Bebe only accepts when they get to the car and opens the trunk to what looks like a game of luggage Tetris. Kenny rearranges everything, and Bebe reminds him that he'll probably have to do it again when they go to pick up Craig.

They return to the apartment briefly to make sure that Stan knows where all of pet supplies are and to say goodbye. Stan is hungover as shit, but Kenny still hugs him tightly and lifts him off the ground with an affectionate, "I fucking love you, man." Stan is good-humored about it, though Bebe can tell that he just wants to crawl under the covers and sleep for a couple more hours.

They whisper conspiratorially for a few more seconds before Kenny turns and grins at Bebe, saying, "Alright, let's get this show on the road."

When they return to Goldilocks, Bebe loads into the passenger seat and Clyde into the back. Kenny grins wider and says, "Got everything?"

"Everything but coffee," complains Bebe, still rubbing the sleep out of her eyes. She's excited, don't get her wrong, but she's tired as shit and she struggles with being polite when she wants to curl up and go to sleep. Fortunately, as soon as they get on the road, she can do just that. She brought her pillow with her in the car, and so did Clyde, who also brought a worn-out teddy bear with a missing eye that he looked a little sheepish about wanting to take with him.

"We'll drop by Harbucks after we get Craig, okay?" Kenny says. He smiles at her, sunny and cheerful as usual.

Craig's house is barely two minutes away by car, especially going at the speed that Kenny likes driving at. He screeches to a halt at the curb in front of the Tucker house, which outwardly looks neat and well-cared for, more than the other houses around it. Bebe knows that Craig's family isn't the most wealthy – Kenny says that he used to see them when his mom took him along with her to pick up their welfare check – but they seem to have made outward appearances a priority, maybe even as a result.

Clyde says, "I'll go get him," but before he can get both feet out of Goldilocks, Craig has pushed the front door open.

"I've told my parents to sue if you get me killed," Craig announces to Kenny.

Bebe, meanwhile, is focused on Craig's chosen road trip clothing: His denim shorts (though a little on the tight side) and flip flops are normal enough, but he's also wearing a mesh tank top – and his sunglasses have rhinestones dotting all the way around the lenses.

"What are you staring at?" Craig tartly asks her, "You look like a hipster threw up on you."

"Craig," Clyde says, his tone more pleading than warning.

Kenny jumps in with, "If you're going to be a little bitch for the entire ride there, don't be surprised if I leave you on the side of the road in Utah or some shit."

Craig lifts up his rhinestone-studded sunglasses merely to give a melodramatic roll of his eyes and says, "Whatever. Just help me get my suitcase into the trunk. And tell me we're getting coffee."

Craig briefly slips back into his house to retrieve his suitcase.

And what he emerges with is strikingly familiar: Black with white polka dots. The exact suitcase that's in the trunk already with Bebe's belongings in it.

"Ha!" Kenny exclaims, "You and Bebe have the same suitcase, dude."

Craig's brows lift up above his sunglasses and says, "You're kidding. She has taste?"

Clyde protests at this, "Craig, c'mon." His voice is pleading, but Bebe doesn't think that that's what coaxes Craig into the car. Clyde is giving Craig a look that she doesn't think she's ever seen him wear, the kind of look that's usually reserved for longtime couples or incredibly closer friends communicating something silently that nobody else can read. Craig's lips twitch after a moment, but he shakes his head and ducks into the car.

Even with Clyde playing Craig-tamer, Bebe can already tell that she'll spend much of this car ride talking herself down from murder. She hopes that an iced cup of caffeine will take her down from rage-mode, but in the meantime, she slinks back into the passenger seat with her headphones in, and flips her iPod to some soothing Enya. It isn't exactly roadtrip music, but it does get her to breathe, and forget that Craig Tucker has invaded her perfect birthday gift. This lasts for approximately thirty seconds, because when Craig loads into the car, he gives her seat a couple of firm kicks that she's convinced weren't accidental.

Kenny pulls her back when they park in front of Harbucks and says, "Hey. I really will leave Craig in Utah if he's a dick to you again."

That teases a smile out of Bebe, and she says, "I appreciate that."

Kenny slips his arm around her and grins, adjusting his dad's old hat where it's sitting on his head and says, "It's the least I can do for my favorite hot chick," and winks.

Bebe shoves him off of her and he laughs, and that makes her laugh too. She decides that as long as Kenny's around, the trip won't be a total bust.

As soon as an iced latte is placed in Bebe's hands she practically inhales it. Kenny fiddles with his iPod's music while Craig and Clyde use the restroom. He says, "I hope Craig is less of a twat after coffee."

"I told you we shouldn't have invited him," she pointedly responds.

"Maybe not, but he's a lonely twat, and that makes me feel bad," Kenny says seriously.

Kenny is too empathetic, she thinks, but she doesn't have time to express this before Craig and Clyde come loping back from the restroom. Craig isn't scowling anymore, a blessing that Bebe attributes to the wonders of caffeine.

"I want to turn on my music," Craig declares as soon as they're buckled up and Kenny is pulling away from Harbucks.

"No dice, dude," Kenny says, "It's my car, and so I'm gonna play my music." To punctuate, he finally chooses a song on his iPod, some sort of metal song that Bebe isn't familiar with but kind of likes.

Clyde jumps in, "Dude, no way! I love Alestorm! Oh my God, I can't wait to go on the Pirates of the Caribbean ride. I am so stoked."

"Dude, you think you're stoked? I've never been before," Kenny says excitedly.

"You haven't?" asks Clyde, cocking his head a little, before he realizes that Bebe already told him this, or that Kenny is a McCormick, and the McCormicks have always been the poorest family in town. He amends with, "Craig's never been to Disneyland, either."

"_Clyde_," Craig says pointedly, as though the fact that Craig has never been to Disneyland before is top secret information. Bebe knows that Craig enjoys his privacy, but she doesn't understand what's to conceal about never having visited Disneyland before. She's sure that loads of people haven't.

After that, pirate metal aside, Bebe arranges her pillow into a comfortable position behind her and tries her best to fall asleep. She does, though it isn't a deep sleep, and every so often she's jolted awake when Goldilocks bounces over a rift in the road, and once when she hears Craig complaining that Kenny has poor taste in music, and Kenny responding that they're not in Utah yet but that he still doesn't have any qualms about leaving Craig on the side of the road.

They only drive for about an hour before everybody's coffee settles in their bladders, and they pull off at the next gas station. Kenny tops off the tank while they go to use the restrooms, which smell clean but look dirty, and have little condom dispensers mounted on the off-white walls.

While Bebe is browsing the short rows of snacks, she feels a tap on her shoulder. It's Clyde, and he says, "Hey, I'm sorry about Craig."

"I can't believe you invited him, Clyde," Bebe says, "And don't even try to tell me that it was Kenny, because I know that you asked him to do it."

Clyde's brows sweep together and he frowns. He says, "Look, I know you guys don't get along, but – you can't tell anybody this okay? – but he's my boyfriend, and I'm worried about him, alright? It's so fucking hard to get him out of his basement, and he just – he's so – sad. Like. I know he is. It's not like he'd tell me, but I know it. Please just ignore him, or something? I'm begging you, Bebe."

Bebe dramatically snatches a plastic package of gummy worms off of its shelf and says, "I don't know, dude. I can try. But he's done nothing but be a dick and I'm fucking pissed, okay? This was supposed to be good for Kenny, you know. I wanted him to relax. But now he has to play babysitter."

She walks off toward the counter, realizing again how annoyed she is that she'll have to spend so much time in the car with a total asshole. The skinny middle-aged man at the counter rings her up but mostly leers down her dress, which is what prompts her to slam down a five on the counter and say, "And keep the change, you perverted fuck."

Bebe slams the passenger side door when she climbs into Goldilocks. She shouldn't have, but she's moody and pissed off and she feels like being a drama queen about it, even if she is properly caffeinated.

"Whoa, whoa," Kenny says, poking his head into the car, "What's going on?"

"_Ugh_," expresses Bebe, "Craig. And the guy at the counter stared at my boobs."

Kenny frowns. He says, "Aw, c'mon, it's not that bad. Well. The Craig thing. The guy staring at your boobs is a creepshow, dude. You can't just _stare_ at a rack like that," he gestures to her breasts, "You have to _admire._"

"Oh, my God, Kenny, that is not helping," Bebe says, glaring.

Kenny's frown deepens as he slides into the driver's seat. He grabs her hand and plays with her fingers, tracing out the joints in her hand with his thumb. He says, "I'm sorry. Just don't let Craig bother you, alright?" He leans over and brushes his lips to the curve of her cheek, an action that is strangely intimate, and makes Bebe flush with color. When he pulls back, he says, "Man, I gotta piss like a racehorse. You hold down the fort, yeah?"

With their bladders emptied and the car stocked with snack food and bottled water, they set off again. Craig complains about Kenny's music again but shuts up partway through his speech about how he hates whatever band is blaring through Kenny's speakers. Bebe turns to see the cause of this blessed quiet and sees Clyde giving Craig another telling stare. She looks down and realizes that Clyde is stroking Craig's leg in an attempt to pacify him.

Which lasts until Craig notices that Bebe is looking at them and spits out, "Can I fucking help you?"

"Yeah," Bebe says, "You can stop being such a boner."

"Guys," Clyde says.

The car seems to launch over a bump in the road, and Bebe makes a noise of irritation before turning back to continue the argument. Only – Goldilocks is making an odd noise now, and isn't driving like she should.

"Aw, fuck me," Kenny says, "We've got a flat."

**o.o.o.o**

**Wow, hi. Sorry, that was the longest I've ever taken between updates. I don't think the rest will take as long as that. It's been a busy month.**

**Thank you to my amazing reviewers!: NSRforevermore, KirstenTheDestroyer, lilykinz200, BattyCore, Cchall, theyellowsky, w0rmsign, Catatoniaa, TheAwesome15, and prettyoddrydonfan. **


	3. Can't Keep Away from the Girl

**Chapter Track: Fell in Love With a Girl – The White Stripes**

They pull off onto the side of the highway. Bebe doesn't even think she should be surprised that this road trip is already a disaster, not even two hours into their drive. At least they have a spare tire – though it's buried underneath Kenny's Tetris arrangement of luggage. Bebe and Clyde help Kenny unload it, carefully placing their belongings in the dirt while Craig stands gawkily off to the side with his arms folded over his chest and a new scowl twisting his lips. Bebe decides against commentary, and instead digs around in her bag for her sunscreen. Who knows how long they'll be out in the sun at this rate?

"Hey, can you get my back?" she asks Clyde, while Kenny rolls out the spare tire. He lifts off his trucker hat to wipe the sweat from his brow.

Clyde obliges, though he's silent and not at all like his usual loquacious self. She knows she's contributed to it by arguing with Craig, but it's hard to resist when he's insistent on being such a dick. When he mumbles that he's done and hands back her bottle of Coppertone, Bebe turns and says, "Hey, I'm sorry. It's morning, it's sunny and hot, we're all trapped in a small metal container together – it makes me grumpy. I'll try not to fight with him anymore."

Clyde smiles with something like relief and takes Bebe into a bone-crushing hug. She hugs him back, not minding that he's squeezing her so hard she feels like she could pop. Clyde doesn't know his own strength, she thinks.

"Goddamn, it's hot out here," Kenny says, putting a hand on each hip and wiping the sweat from his head again. He uses his dad's old hat to fan himself before peeling off his black t-shirt and tossing it on top of Goldilocks. He crouches down to start working on the tire. He doesn't look nearly as annoyed as the rest of them are. Instead, he actually looks as though he's in his element, but of course he is, because that's how Kenny is with cars. Cars are to Kenny as poetry is to Bebe – it comes naturally and is a huge part of who they are.

Bebe opens up the door on the passenger's side to rummage through her purse and take out her notebook. On the dash, she sees a pack of Kenny's cigarettes and turns to ask, "Hey, can I bum a cigarette?" Bebe isn't a consistent smoker. She's more of a social smoker, and sometimes has a cigarette at parties or bars, or occasionally over coffee with a friend. Addiction to the nicotine never got to her, though now having just one to smoke sounds like an appropriate way to sooth her irritability and anxiousness at the rough beginning of their trip.

Kenny blinks up at her and waves his hand with a, "Go for it."

"You got a light?" she asks, pulling one out of the box and holding it between her fingers. Kenny scrabbles around in the pocket of his cargo shorts before pulling out a lighter and tossing it to her. She catches it with one hand, lights her cigarette, and throws it back with a nod and a, "Thanks."

"Hey, I want one too," Craig says. Bebe didn't even realize that he'd gotten close again. He studies Kenny and Bebe through his rhinestone sunglasses the same way one might look at a snake in the middle of a sidewalk.

"Sure man," Kenny says, and he cocks his head toward the dash, where Bebe replaced the package, before handing Craig his lighter.

Bebe plops down onto her suitcase and opens her notebook while Kenny makes quick work of the spare. She takes a drag off of the end of her cigarette and sighs, rubbing a hand over her face. Words spill onto the lines on the page like they haven't in a long time, mostly words of frustration and impatience, but words nonetheless. She presses the pen too hard and when she stops writing for an instant to take another drag, her hand is a little sore.

She spares a glance at Kenny, which turns out to be a bad idea, because he's topless and shiny with sweat, and she can see his muscles working under his skin as he rolls the flat tire behind him. Her stomach does an odd little flop and for a moment, she almost feels sick. She shakes herself out of it. She's always found him attractive – just as he's found her attractive. It was one of the first things that they acknowledged about each other, way back in high school, when Kenny stopped wearing his parka hood up and when Bebe gained enough confidence to own her curvy body.

If they weren't roommates and best friends, Bebe knows that they'd be all over each other. But sex changes things. It takes friendships and distorts them into something that she doesn't want for her and Kenny.

When Kenny spots her looking, he winks her way and Bebe smiles back, chuckling a little to herself.

On her other side, she hears the click of a camera, and turns to see Clyde, holding up a small, cheap-looking Canon. He has it attached to a lanyard that's looped around his neck like jewelry. Bebe doesn't know how she didn't notice before, and wonders if he's been taking pictures this entire time without anybody noticing.

"What are you doing?" she asks. Not that she minds pictures – she's photogenic, and she knows that – but photographing their sordid flat tire incident is a little much, especially with Kenny topless and sweaty in the background.

Clyde explains, "You and Kenny were having a moment." He grins the kind of grin that Bebe is all-too-familiar with, a grin full of innuendo.

Bebe reaches down and snuffs out her cigarette in the dirt before she throws it at him, giving him a look of warning. Clyde doesn't react beyond his cheeky smile, and snapping another picture, this one of Bebe scowling at him.

"This is going to be a theme, isn't it?" Bebe sighs.

Clyde shrugs, "I just want to document." As if to illustrate, Clyde turns and snaps a picture of Craig, who flips off the camera before crushing his cigarette butt underneath his flip flop.

"Alright," Kenny announces, straightening up and clapping his hands. He cracks his back, stretches, and says, "Now we've just gotta put all this shit back in the trunk."

Bebe returns her notebook and pen to her purse before helping Kenny load the flattened tire and their bags back into Goldilocks' trunk. Craig slips back into the car without doing any of the grunt work, but Bebe has resolved not to let herself be bothered by it. She's sweaty and sticky by the time that she comes out of the sun and back into the sanctuary of the air conditioned car. Kenny seems to sense that she wants to have music quieter than his pirate metal playing, and opts for rock, something with just a little bit of a country twang. She smiles at that, because as much as Kenny hates talking about his family and doesn't like the way that he was brought up, he still wears his dad's old hat and can't shake his countrified taste in music.

"This is even worse than that bullshit you were playing before," Craig says, but nobody bothers retorting, maybe because they've learned that responding to Craig does nothing but egg him on.

Bebe falls asleep again, but only for about thirty minutes. When she wakes, the car is eerily quiet beyond the soft sound of Kenny's music. He hums along to it as he drives. He mouths the words and starts to sing along when the chorus begins. He has a good singing voice, but he seems embarrassed when other people hear it, aside from when he's in the shower and belts out all-out opera. When Kenny spots that she's awake, he jumps and cuts off singing.

"You have a nice sleep?" he asks, smiling easily.

"Mm," Bebe answers. She glances back to see that Craig is asleep against the window, and that Clyde has flopped over into his lap. They do look kind of sweet, even if Craig is a dick and never has anything good to say. When he's asleep, he doesn't look nearly as much like the wad that he really is.

"Hey, can you do me a favor?" asks Kenny. He gives her a tiny little smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. Her insides clench up a little at it. He looks so fucking happy, and now that Craig's running commentary has been put to bed, she can enjoy the fact that she's done something right. Bebe loves giving gifts, but this might be the best one that she's given yet.

"Sure," Bebe agrees sleepily. She stifles a yawn and tries to shake out the stiffness from her limbs.

"My back kind of itches," Kenny says, "I can't reach it while I'm driving."

Bebe rolls her eyes and leans over. She scratches lightly and Kenny sighs.

"Your neck is a little pink," Bebe remarks. She brushes his hair out of the way and whistles at the irritated skin, "You gotta sunburn, son."

Kenny groans and says, "Shit, are you serious? We were only out there for like twenty minutes. Fuckin' A. That shit better clear up by the time that we get to California, or I'm going to cut somebody." He grumbles and settles back into the driver's seat, pouting. His face doesn't look like it got burned, probably because the brim of his hat protected his face – though Bebe does see the start of some faint freckles across the bridge of his nose. She won't mention this to Kenny, who hates the idea that he could possibly be freckled. Bebe gets them too, though only on her shoulders.

They fall silent after that. Kenny hums along to the music again but doesn't sing. He doesn't like silence, though, when he knows that there are people around, and so Kenny comments, "I saw you scribbling in that notebook of yours. You get over your writer's block?"

"Sort of," Bebe says, a little surprised that Kenny remembered that she'd been in the midst of a terrible block for far too long. She doesn't know if she should elaborate on her spurt of inspiration, because she isn't quite sure how much Kenny has paid attention to her writing woes.

"Sort of?" he asks, "Does that mean you got something out, but it's not like, ideal, or something?"

Bebe makes a face, "Why are you so interested?"

"'Cause it's been giving you so much grief," Kenny says, "and you're my best friend, girl."

Bebe actually blushes. Kenny says all kinds of shit to her, and makes a sexual running commentary daily, but Bebe's never actually had anything to blush about. She says, "Um. I guess I was mostly just venting."

"About snarky back there?" asks Kenny, sticking his thumb in the direction of Craig.

"Kinda, yeah," Bebe answers, "It's just a bunch of gibberish."

"Don't give me that shit," teases Kenny, "You're a good writer, dude. You know that."

"You're supposed to say that because you're my friend," Bebe responds.

From the backseat, there's an annoyed groan before Craig's nasally voice complains, "Jesus Christ, would you two just get it over with and fuck already? The sexual tension in here is fucking suffocating."

Bebe shakes her head, but the conversation dies with those words. Bebe ducks down and pulls Kenny's dog-eared copy of The Game of Thrones out of her purse. She's only a few pages in, and she's enjoying it. She figures the book is thick enough that it'll last her for the entire car trip to California and back.

Kenny glances over and says, "You reading that finally? Fuck, you have to tell me how you like it."

They don't stop until they reach Grand Junction, where Kenny fills up the tank again, and they stop at a waffle house for lunch, since Craig refuses to eat at a fast food joint, and for once, Bebe agrees with him. They're mostly silent over their coffee and food. Clyde looks the most cheerful among them, digging into a breakfast burrito so heartily that he looks like a hamster with food stored in its cheeks.

"Ooh, that's bold," Bebe says, pointing to Kenny's coffee cup.

"Huh?" he says, mouth full of scrambled eggs. He picks up his cup, on which the waitress scrawled her phone number. He grins at it and says, "Cool."

"She must really like you," Bebe says, "For all she knows, I could be your girlfriend."

"You look too classy for me," Kenny says, "You're always dressed fancy."

Bebe quirks a brow at that, because she doesn't know if she should take that as a compliment or an insult. Knowing Kenny, she shouldn't take it either way – he tends to mean things as neutral remarks and nothing more. She just tucks into her blueberry pancakes and bacon, feeling much better now that she's had something substantial to eat. Craig is the last one with food on his plate – he takes tiny, careful bites. Kenny has taken out his phone and is playing Angry Birds, and Clyde is fiddling with a loose thread on one of the pockets on his shorts.

Bebe checks the time on her phone. It's nearly one in the afternoon already, and at the rate Craig's eating, they'll never make it on schedule. They're supposed to be in Disneyland in two days. Bebe says, "You might want to pick up the pace, Craig. It's almost one."

Craig merely chews and flips Bebe the finger. She almost retorts, but closes her mouth on second thought and slouches into the booth, arms crossed. Kenny doesn't look nearly as concerned as she feels, but he's always been more casual about schedules – unless the schedule pertains to his job, in which case he is meticulous about arriving on time.

By the time that Craig finishes eating and they've paid for their meal, it's a few minutes after one, and Bebe returns to being annoyed with Craig.

They're back on the road for no more than ten minutes when Kenny's head turns slowly as he reads a sign and says, "Hey, why don't we stop by the Colorado National Monument and hike and shit?"

"We're already late," Bebe says.

"Late for what? Disneyland isn't going anywhere," Kenny says, "I wanna experience this road trip to the fullest. I've never been this far away from home before."

"Ugh," Craig moans, "No. I don't want to have to spend more time with you people than I'm required to."

"Then why the fuck did you come, Craig?" Bebe snaps.

The car goes silent, and Craig doesn't answer her. Instead, he casts his eyes off to the side and stares out the window at the trees flicking by as they drive. His expression is unreadable, and for reasons unknown to Bebe, staring at him is making her uncomfortable. She turns away.

Bebe sighs and says, "Yeah, let's go hike. I'll have to get my sneakers out of my suitcase, though."

"What about me? I only brought flip flops," Craig complains.

"That's your problem," snips Bebe, only to receive a look from Clyde.

Clyde suggests quietly, "You can borrow a pair of my sneakers if you want."

"Your feet are huge, Clyde," Craig replies stiffly.

"Sorry," responds Clyde, "I just thought I'd offer."

The grief turns out to be worth it, though, because when they pull into the national park, Bebe is actually taken aback by how gorgeous it is – the red rock and ridges. The rock is stark against the bright sky. Kenny rolls Goldilocks' top down as they drive along the road that winds through the park, and Clyde snaps photographs faster than the paparazzi. Sometimes, Bebe thinks, it's nice to be reminded that they live in an amazing world. Kenny lets out a low whistle as they park. When they unload from Goldilocks, he looks up and admires their surroundings, holding his hands on his hips. He rubs the back of his neck and says, "Hey, you got any sunscreen, Bebe? Figure I don't want to burn myself something worse."

"Yeah, just a second," answers Bebe from where she's shuffling through the trunk. She unzips the nearest polka dotted suitcase in hopes that it is the one that belongs to her, but upon inspection of the contents, it is most decidedly not. Bebe extracts the item laid out on top of various ugly clothing and dangles it in the air, asking, "Craig, why the fuck did you pack fuzzy handcuffs?"

Kenny and Clyde glance to Bebe and then to Craig. Kenny lets out a hoot of laughter, and Clyde blushes. Craig does neither, and instead answers flatly, "Just in case," which is not the satisfying answer that Bebe had hoped to tease out of him. She places the handcuffs back in Craig's suitcase and zips it back up with a little huff, before digging through her own bag and retrieving a pair of socks and her low-top red converse. They're worn down – one of them has a hole in the canvas near the sole, but she loves them, and can't find it in her to part with them.

While Clyde snaps pictures with Craig standing silently beside him, Bebe collects her bag from the passenger's seat and pulls out her sunscreen. She orders Kenny to bend his head so she can apply it to his neck, and he obeys. When he pulls up, she hands him the bottle and says, "You can get your arms. Just give it back when you're done." He's staring at her, though, in a way that Bebe finds unnerving, with a little hitch between his brows. Bebe gives him a look, and after a moment of silence, finally asks, "What?"

Kenny tears his eyes off of her and looks down at the ground, shaking his head. "Nothing," he answers, but when he looks back up he remarks, "You got a ladybug in your hair. Let me get it." He takes a step toward her and brushes a blond curl out of her face, pulling back with a tiny little insect on his finger, which he sets down in a patch of weeds near the edge of the lot.

They take off down a trail that's marked as easy. Kenny reaches out like he's about to sling his arm over Bebe's shoulders, but withdraws in midair. Bebe cocks a brow at him, but he says nothing.

Craig complains, "What the hell is the point of hiking? It's just walking."

"I think it's pretty," Clyde says, the edges of his voice sharp with warning.

"Oh, yes, 'pretty.' What an observation you've made. I am just so impressed," Craig responds.

Bebe leans over and murmurs to Kenny, "You know what would suck? Having Craig be your boyfriend."

"He can't be _all_ bad," Kenny speculates, but the road trip does seem to be challenging Kenny's sunny outlook on Craig.

Bebe would swear that Clyde documented the entire hike frame by frame. They walk for a half hour before taking a break to split the sunflower seeds that Bebe had stashed her purse, and to pass around the water bottle that Clyde brought with him. As they draw closer to the parking lot, Craig begins to complain again, until a stout woman wearing a teal fannypack notices Clyde snapping pictures and offers to take a shot of all four of them together. Craig protests loudly, but as they bunch together, Clyde yanks Craig into the picture, wrapping his arm around Craig's thin shoulders and beaming at the camera.

"Fuck, I'm exhausted," Kenny says, just as the parking lot rolls into sight.

"I can drive if you want," Clyde says.

Kenny studies Clyde for a moment in consideration. Craig pipes up, "If you think he might break your dumb car, he won't. Clyde drives like my grandmother." It's a statement meant to be support, Bebe thinks, at least as supportive as one can get from Craig Tucker.

With a final speculative look, Kenny shrugs and passes the keys to Clyde. He says, "You can choose the music since you're driving, dude." He yawns, and Bebe realizes only then that Kenny's the only one that hasn't gotten a chance to nap a little yet. Even with the coffee that he's consumed, he must be tired out of his wits.

"I call shotgun," Craig declares, and nobody argues with him.

Craig tosses Bebe's pillow into the backseat, and Clyde asks her to pass him his teddy bear, which she does. When Kenny slides in beside her, she says, "You can sleep in my lap if you want."

Kenny bites his lower lip and says, "I think I'm okay. Can I use your pillow, though?" Bebe hands it to him, but it's a strange reaction. Kenny is typically eager for physical affection of any kind. Bebe realizes after a few minutes of silent consideration, as Clyde pulls out of the lot and starts rolling down the road toward the highway, that she's a little hurt.

For fuck's sake, she _likes_ Kenny's hugs and his general inclination toward cuddling.

"Which direction do I turn out of the park?" asks Clyde, snapping back out of her frustrated line of thought.

"You turn right up here, and this road should go back to the highway," Bebe says through a yawn. She can't help it – cars put her to sleep like almost nothing else can. Something about the lulling motion and the white noise makes her bleary-eyed and heavy.

The last thing that she hears before she drifts off is, "Craig? You wanna play your music?"

**o.o.o.o**

Kenny is having an intensely vivid dream about breasts, except they're a pair of breasts that he's not to be thinking about. They're covered up by her flowery dress, and she's pulling it down, just enough for him to see the shadow of her cleavage. He's not supposed to be looking, but her smile is so inviting, and he can feel himself salivating as she pulls the cotton fabric lower and lower. He can see just a little bit of red lace –

He jerks awake, his head bouncing against the window with a _clunk._ There's music playing. He thinks it might be Lady Gaga, but it's not a song that he recognizes. Kenny's neck is stiff and his sunburn itches. He reaches up to scratch at it even though he knows he shouldn't. It's then that he notices that Bebe is slumped over him, dead to the world. He extracts his arm carefully. He should probably wake her up. Letting her sleep on him like this is a bad idea, and it's a bad idea because she's been making his chest hurt all day.

But he doesn't wake her. Instead he just looks. Her hair is a little frizzier than usual, and there's pink in her cheeks that might be from too much sun. Kenny moves a lock of her hair off of her face. She shifts again him and moans softly in her sleep.

_Fuck._

They'd agreed to keep sex out of the relationship the day that they signed the lease for their apartment. That was a smart move. He knows that it was, because now she's his best friend and he loves living with her, even if she's easily annoyed and won't let him leave his porn rags on the coffee table. He'd known that would be fucking difficult at first, because their companionship began with her walking into his garage in high heels and little blue dress that made his mouth water. She'd launched into a long-winded explanation of why they should move in together before he could even process how damn pretty she looked, and he'd had to ask her to repeat her entire speech.

Eventually (and he does mean eventually), he grew accustomed to seeing her in her little pajama shorts, or towels, and even in nothing but her underwear. What he hadn't prepared for was to feel a little sore every time that he sees her curled up on their couch, chewing on the end of a pen with a notebook in her lap and her glasses on her face. Or not being able stop smiling when she picks up Hufflepuff and makes ridiculous noises at her. Or his blood pumping just a little harder when she lets him lie down with her and they watch TV together.

It was only _today_ of all the damn days that he realized –

He has fucking _feelings_ for her. He doesn't know how to handle it, because he doesn't think he's had feelings for anybody before. Not this way. He considers texting Stan about this debacle, before he realizes that they're in the middle of nowhere and there won't be service for his shitty phone.

Kenny sighs and wraps his arm around her. He does this kind of thing all the time – or _did_, rather – but now he's hyperaware of every bit of affection that he gives her, and it makes him as nervous as a goddamn schoolboy with a crush on teacher.

"Wet dream, McCormick?"

Kenny glances up and away from Bebe to Craig, who has one brow quirked at him, looking smug, as though he's figured out some dirty secret.

Kenny shakes his head and responds, "It's not like that, dude."

"_Right_," Craig says, "That was the most platonic gaze I've ever seen."

"What was that? 'Kenny, I want to be left in Utah'? If you ever want to see your eight guinea pigs or whatever, you shut up, okay?"

Craig rolls his eyes melodramatically and corrects, "I have seven guinea pigs."

"Okay, Snow White, like I give a fuck," Kenny snips back.

Clyde snorts at that. Craig turns back around with a frown and asks, "Why did you laugh? That wasn't even remotely funny."

"But – I mean, it kind of was. Seven guinea pigs. Like the seven dwarves?" Clyde explains, as though Craig didn't understand the joke, though he undoubtedly did.

"It was reaching," concludes Craig.

"Mm," Kenny hears next to him, and looks down to see Bebe awake. She shifts and looks up at him, rubbing the sleep out of one eye, and asks, "How long have I been out?"

"I dunno, I just woke up a few minutes ago," Kenny shrugs, "How long were we out?"

"A few hours?" Clyde guesses, "We stopped and bought energy drinks and alcohol."

"I like your thinking," Kenny says. He moves to withdraw his arm from Bebe. It feels like it's burning now that she's awake, like if he doesn't move away she'll figure him out.

But, when he moves, she whines and says simply, "Nooo."

He gnaws at his lip and murmurs, "I was gonna get my Gameboy from my backpack." Which is a lie, because his backpack is in the trunk with the rest of their bags. It's a terrible lie, too, and he can see that in Bebe's reaction.

She sighs quietly and pulls herself away from him, into a sitting position. He feels strangely cold, now. Bebe bends over to sift through her purse and pulls out her phone. There are little freckles on her shoulder blades, peeking out from behind her mane of loose curls. Kenny swallows the urge to reach out and touch as she unlocks the screen of her iPhone and flips through her apps for a few seconds. Kenny tears his eyes away guiltily.

Man, he's not good at keeping secrets. But he doesn't want to ruin their fucking friendship with whatever the hell he's got going on.

"What the _fuck_?" Bebe half-shouts.

"What?" Kenny jerks to look over. She's looking at her phone, at a little blue arrow on a map.

"We're going the wrong fucking way," Bebe says, "How long have we been driving this way?"

Clyde swallows. Even from here, Kenny can see that he's turned bright red. He answers, "Um. Maybe a couple hours?"

Bebe sets her phone aside and rubs her hands over her face in frustration. Kenny wants to help, but he doesn't know how, so he just asks stupidly, "Could we turn around?"

"I guess," Bebe says.

"Let me see your phone," Kenny says. Bebe passes it to him, and he looks at the map, fiddling with the screen to zoom out a little more. The original plan was to try and hit Vegas tonight, but there's no way that they can make it now with as tired as they are. He studies the map for a few minutes, squinting at the tiny text before he asks, "Alright, does anybody need to be back home in a certain amount of time?"

"Ah, I got two weeks off just in case, but I _do_ need to come back," Bebe says.

"My boss gave me three weeks," Clyde responds.

"Fucking three? Lucky shit," Kenny says.

"I saved up a lot of paid time off," Clyde says.

Craig doesn't say anything.

"Then I say we take the long way," Kenny says, "We can stay the night in Provo and we'll drive up through Reno, hit Sacramento, and work our way south from there. Sound good to everybody? We can relax and take in the sights, yeah?"

Bebe gives him a look, one that he feels he can only ease by wrapping him arm around her and pulling her in tight to his chest. He rests his chin on top of her head and says more quietly, "Look, I know that this wasn't the original plan, but I'm having the time of my life, man. This is seriously the best birthday ever."

The tension slowly drains from her body, and eventually she pulls back. She heaves a sigh and says, "Alright. Let's do it."

They drive for a little over two more hours, listening to Craig's music all the way there – an extensive Lady Gaga collection that Bebe almost teases him for, before she gets shushed by Clyde. When they exit into Provo, they stop at a Red Robin for dinner. Kenny didn't realize how hungry he was until their waiter places his burger in front of him. The same can be said for the other three. No conversation passes between them, only chewing and satisfied noises. Bebe polishes off her plate but can't stuff herself with anything more, while Kenny and Clyde order dessert. Kenny goes for a sundae, and thinks of how jealous his kid-self would be that he's hanging out with a beautiful girl, eating ice cream, and on his way to Disneyland. It makes him feel a little better about the weirdness in his chest when he looks at Bebe, or smells her perfume.

"What _sights_ are there even to see in Utah?" Bebe asks him suddenly.

Kenny swallows a bite of ice cream and shrugs his shoulders. He says, "I dunno. We'll figure it out later. Tonight we'll just get drunk." That way, he won't have to think about these stupid fucking _feelings. _

Bebe laughs at that, and he feels warm and stupid. When the bill comes, she insists on paying, and when Kenny takes out his wallet to cover tip, Clyde knocks back his hand and says, "Dude, it's your birthday trip."

Before they leave, Kenny takes out his phone. He doesn't have any new messages, but he shoots one off to Stan.

_help i think i have feelings 4 bebe _

Kenny feels a little better after that, even though all he did was confess it to somebody. Bebe offers to drive them to a motel, and everybody grumbles consent.

They pull into a Sleep Inn and book a room, Craig complaining when they have to carry their luggage up a flight of stairs to get to the room that they were given. The room is decent and comfortable, though. It smells clean inside and looks neat. Bebe flops onto the bed closer to the window and groans happily into the pillow, hugging it to her chest. Kenny wonders if she'll fall asleep before she even has a chance to drink, and smiles at her as she rolls over onto her back and looks at him.

Kenny snaps himself out of it and dumps his duffel bag next to her suitcase and shouts, "Dibs on first shower!"

He closes the bathroom door behind him and checks his phone when he takes it out of his pocket. There's a text notification on the screen. When Kenny opens it, it's from Stan.

_look whos choo choo just pulled into the station_

Kenny frowns at that, because Stan isn't being nearly as sympathetic to his situation as he had hoped. He replies with _super helpful asshat, _and tosses his phone onto the narrow bathroom counter. Kenny sheds his clothes and piles them in the same place that he rested his phone.

The shower feels good after a long day, though his sunburn tingles with pain when the hot water hits it. Kenny shampoos and works out the kinks in his body from being crammed into such a small space for so many hours. He emerges into the motel room feeling refreshed and wearing nothing but a towel, which he replaces with a pair of clean boxer shorts from his duffel. Bebe and Craig are already passing a bottle of vodka between them. As soon as Craig sees Kenny he hands the bottle back to Bebe and makes a beeline for the bathroom, closing the door loudly behind him.

"That was a dramatic exit," remarks Kenny. He towels his hair dry and asks, "You got a brush or a comb or something?"

Bebe pushes the bottle of vodka into Kenny's hand and sleepily moans, before unzipping her suitcase. She rolls her eyes at the contents and mutters, "I grabbed Craig's again." Kenny shrugs and takes a long swig.

Bebe hauls the suitcase across the room and swaps it for her own, pausing to stare at Clyde, who's on his back on the hotel bed, eyes closed. She comments, "I think he's asleep," and Clyde doesn't stir, so it must be true. Kenny drinks again from the bottle, wondering if he's using alcohol the way that Stan used to and still sometimes does, to forget feelings that he doesn't want to face. At the moment, he can't find it in him to car, and takes another swallow when Bebe turns back to him.

"Dude," Bebe says, when she unzips her makeup bag and passes a pick to Kenny, "I forgot. I have a thing for sunburns. I can put it on your back if you want."

Kenny combs through his hair and shakes it into place before returning her pick. He doesn't know if that's such a good idea. _Fuck good ideas,_ he decides, and he takes one more drink of vodka before setting it down on the little table between their neatly made beds.

"Lie down on your stomach, that'll make it easier," Bebe says.

"Yes, ma'am," Kenny submits. He slumps onto the bed, holding the same pillow that Bebe had in her lap. It smells like her perfume, something that he guesses is expensive, because even though Bebe's job doesn't pay as much as his, she's just _expensive. _She always looks like a million dollars, not like him. He knows he looks trashy and he revels in it.

And then he feels a _weight on top of him._

"What are you doing?" Kenny asks carefully.

She is sitting on him. She's fucking sitting on him. On his _ass. _And he can smell her and feel the weight of her and its making him feel a little lightheaded. He turns his head to stare up at her, and Bebe says, "What? I'm just putting this on your sunburn, dude." She shakes the tube in her hand and looks at him like he's lost his mind.

Kenny doesn't respond. She uncaps the sun soother and squeezes some into her left palm, rubbing them together before she gently sets her palms down on his red shoulders blades.

"_Ah – _your hands are fucking cold," he says, but he relaxes into her touch as she smooths it over him. It does make him feel better, less itchy and not as hot as he was. A little shiver runs down his spine. God, her hands. His eyes shutter closed, and he thinks about Bebe in his dream, all open arms, and that little bit of red lace he dreamt when she pulled down the front of her dress.

Oh, no.

Oh _no._

He's getting hard. He tries to think of something to bring himself back down – Tony from the garage back home, Craig in the shower – but nothing works. He's hard as a stone in his boxers and there's no way that he can conceal it in this position, no subtle way to adjust himself into a camouflaged position. Her hands are so fucking _soft_. He is almost certain that something like this could kill him. And when he came back, he'd have to drive all the way to Provo, Utah just to have her do it to him again.

In the bathroom, Kenny hears the water shut off. The bathroom door opens a few moments later and Craig tramps out with a towel wrapped around his waist. If he wasn't such a dickhead to Bebe, he'd be a much more attractive companion.

Craig quirks a brow at them and says, "Well, it's about time."

"Fuck off, it's not like that," Bebe says.

Kenny takes the opportunity to exclaim, "Hey, uh, Bebe, I need to pee." When she doesn't move, Kenny shifts so that she falls off of him and onto the mattress, and he makes his quick escape. Craig smirks at him as he passes.

Kenny hears Bebe call something out, but he's already shut the door. He locks it and falls back against it with a sigh, running agitated hands through his hair. He slowly sinks down to the linoleum floor, holding his face in his hands. He needs to handle himself better than this, but he's never had to handle feelings before. He doesn't know how he's supposed to do it. Stan does it all the time, but he's either drunk or getting a laugh out of Kenny's misfortune right now, so he can't help. God, Kenny's liked girls before. He _liked_ all of his girlfriends. This is different. She makes him feel like he's going to throw up, but in the most awesome way.

Kenny's eyes flick down to his hard on. At least he's got one problem that he can take care of.

Kenny dips his hands into his boxers and takes out his cock, stroking himself in a firm fist. He holds his other hand over his mouth and keeps quiet as he works himself, thinking about that little bit of red lace and her goddamn _curves. _He comes into his hand with a muttered curse, letting himself breathe heavily and cool down before he tucks himself back into his shorts and shakily stands to wash his come off of his hand.

Somebody bangs on the door.

"Kenny!"

It's her.

Kenny's clothes are still on the bathroom counter, his phone nestled on top of them. He checks it to find another text from Stan.

_just tell her dude_

Kenny sends back, _dude i dont wanna fuck up stuff with her. _

"Kenny, what the fuck? Come out here and talk to me, you've been acting fucking weird all day," Bebe demands.

There's no window in here, and so he has no other option but to go out and face the music. When he unlocks the door and trudges out, Bebe has her arms crossed over her breasts and her eyes narrowed. She demands, "What the flying fuck has been with you today? Did I do something to piss you off or something?"

"Come outside for a second," he says. He casts open the door to their room. It's a cool night outside, probably only around sixty degrees. Kenny pulls Bebe out with him.

"Did I say something wrong?" she asks, not yelling anymore. She looks sad, and it makes Kenny feel like an asshole.

Kenny smears his hands over his face and turns away from her. Maybe he should take Stan's advice. Stan does know what he's talking about when it comes to feelings and that fuckery, or so it's always seemed to Kenny.

"This is what's wrong," he says. He turns back to her and takes her face in his hands. Kenny ducks down and presses his lips to hers, hard. Her lips part in surprise as she falls back against the wall beside their room's door. Kenny licks his way inside her mouth. She tastes like vodka, but under that, she tastes like Bebe, and it's good. God, it's so fucking good.

Bebe breaks away from him to breathe, but she doesn't say anything. Kenny keeps on, kissing her jaw, and the soft skin of her neck. He pulls the top of her dress down to kiss the tops of her breasts. She isn't wearing red lace, but it's somehow better. It's purple lace, and it makes Kenny's gut stir.

Which makes him realize that he shouldn't be doing this, naturally. He tears himself away and stumbles back with a loud, "_Fuck._" He needs to get away from her for just a little while, because every time he gets near her Kenny feels like he's going insane. He walks briskly toward the stairs.

"Where are you going?" Bebe asks.

"Out," Kenny answers cuttingly.

He doesn't know exactly where he can go in nothing but his skivvies, but he walks out anyway, down the concrete steps and off down the walk. He hears moaning in another room on the lower level, and it just makes him madder at himself, and less eager to return to whatever mess he's created.

"What happened to you?" snorts somebody from behind him. Kenny turns to see a middle-aged lady leaned up against a crappy car, smoking.

"You got another one of those?" he asks.

"Sure," she says. She pulls a pack of Camels from the pocket of her badly-cut jeans and offers him one, flicking a flame up on her lighter for him.

Kenny takes a long drag before he offers, "I just made out with roommate."

The woman lifts a brow, "Yeah? He not take it well?"

"She," he corrects, "I don't know. I left before she said anything. I didn't want to fuck everything up between us is all. She's fucking awesome, right? And I don't want to lose her because I'm an impulsive idiot, you know?" Kenny pauses for a moment, studying the woman's expression before he tacks on, "Shit, sorry. I've got some vodka in me. Makes me a talker."

She cackles, which descends into a hacking cough. Kenny doesn't know what to do other than to pat her on the back until her coughing subsides. She murmurs, "Thanks," and takes a drag off of her cigarette before crushing it underneath her hiking boot. She offers a hand, which Kenny takes, and says, "I'm Lois."

"Kenny," he says, and they shake.

"So you like this girl, or what?" asks Lois. She opens the back door to the car, pulls out a half-emptied bottle of Jack, and gestures to him with it, "You want some?"

"Please," Kenny says politely. She uncaps the bottle and passes it to him. Kenny tips some back and revels in the burn before he returns it to her. He smokes a little before he answers, "Yeah, Bebe's – I don't even know, man. She's just – smart, and like, fucking gorgeous? And I'm just some grease monkey that grew up with a meth lab in his backyard. There's just no way for it to work."

Lois lifts her brows at that and responds, "That's rough, kid."

Kenny loses track of time as he hangs out with Lois. He smokes another two cigarettes as the pass the whiskey back and forth. They swap stories of sordid childhoods. It's depressing, but it takes Kenny's mind away from everything that's happened in the last twenty four hours. He didn't realize how quickly his resolve would vanish, not that he's had anyone around to be of any help.

He doesn't know what time it is when he finally makes his way up the concrete steps to their room, stumbling a little on the last stair. He reeks, and he's more than a little drunk, now. God, he hopes that Bebe isn't still awake, because he's sure as hell not sharing a bed with Clyde or Craig. Kenny knocks on the door. He waits a beat before it opens, revealing Craig in plaid pajama pants.

"Is she awake?" Kenny whispers.

Craig shakes his head. He remarks, "Fell asleep waiting for your dumb ass, actually."

Kenny runs a hand through his hair and mumbles, "Fuck."

"Yup," Craig replies.

Kenny shakes his head before he strides into the hotel room. Clyde is tucked in under the covers now, and he wonders whether Bebe or Craig thought to do that. Bebe is on the other bed in her pajamas, shorts patterned in bunnies, and a Led Zeppelin t-shirt. Her notebook is open next to her head. Kenny leans over the bed and pulls it away from her, closing it and setting it on top of her suitcase. Carefully, he works the comforter out from under her. She makes a soft noise in her sleep and rolls onto her other side, facing away from him. Kenny slides in beside her.

He hesitates for a moment, but then decides to nestle up next to her, his chest pressed to her back. He closes his eyes and leans his forehead against her shoulder.

And he finally falls asleep.

**o.o.o.o**

**Thank you to my reviewers!: lilykinz200, BattyCore, mysteri0n, and KirstenTheDestroyer.**

**As an apology for my really late update, here is a timely and long chapter. :D**


	4. You Never Slow Down

**Chapter Track: Mary Jane's Last Dance – Tom Petty**

Bebe wakes up gradually and more comfortably than she has in years. It takes her a minute to get her bearings – at first she thinks she's back in bed in her apartment in South Park, but as soon as she smells the aroma of motel bedding and morning breath, she knows that's not the case. She's tangled up in somebody, when she definitely went to bed alone.

She opens her eyes – it's Kenny. He's fast asleep and dead to world, and he reeks of whiskey. She wonders when he finally came back last night. He couldn't have gotten very far wearing nothing but boxer shorts, but Kenny doesn't really have shame, and probably didn't care that he was one step away from being naked.

He kissed her.

She feels her cheeks heat at the memory. It wasn't just a kiss. It was a fucking _kiss. _He'd kissed her neck and pulled down her dress, and she'd been an instant away from wrapping her legs around him when he tore himself away from her and stormed off down the stairs. She'd waited a solid forty-five minutes for him before falling asleep. She was confused. She _is_ confused.

"_Ah_."

"Clyde, be quiet."

"I'm trying."

Bebe freezes in her spot with Kenny draped over her and listens carefully. It's clear that Craig and Clyde are making an attempt at not waking them up. They can't possibly be dicking around with two other people in the same room, though, can they? Bebe wouldn't put that past Craig, but she feels like Clyde would at least have a little shame.

She hears a stifled little cry that sounds like it came from Clyde. They are. They are having sex in the bed next to her. This is definitely not the way that she would have preferred to wake up. Her face is on fire, and even when she opens her mouth to clear her throat and get their attention, she can't find it in herself to do it. Bebe lies stock still for several minutes, through muffled noises and moans. She finds herself burying her face in Kenny's chest. He doesn't smell pleasant despite showering the night before. He must have gotten wasted someplace after their romantic interlude just outside the room, because he smells faintly of cigarettes but mostly of alcohol.

When Bebe pulls back to peek and see if Clyde and Craig are anywhere close to finished, she sees that Kenny's eyes are slitted open. He yawns quietly and Bebe holds a finger to her lips, pointing behind him to the bed on their left.

"Are they fucking?" he mouths.

"I think so," she murmurs back.

He looks pale, like he needs to throw up, but he also seems as though he doesn't intend to move until Craig and Clyde have finished with their sexcapades.

A loud groan belonging to Craig erupts, and a moment later Clyde follows. The mattress springs stop squeaking and the noises wind down. For a too-long moment, there's nothing but Clyde and Craig breathing heavily. Clyde asks, "Do you think we woke them up?"

"McCormick is probably sleeping off the hangover of his life," Craig says, "we should shower."

"Mm," Clyde agrees. There's shuffling, and the sound of the bathroom door opening and closing. Bebe dares a peek and sees that they've gone into the bathroom to shower together, which she supposes is only natural after they've fucked each other.

"I can't believe they did that," she remarks, when the water starts running.

"I can," Kenny says. He rolls away from her and stumbles across the room to the trashcan, where he coughs up bile. He sets his head on the rim before throwing up a second time and says, "Hey, at least they used protection."

"Oh, _gross_," Bebe says, "I did not need to know that." Nonetheless, she digs in her purse and finds the Advil that she tossed in at the last minute. She dumps a couple pills into her palm and swipes Clyde's half-full water bottle from the TV stand, handing both to Kenny and rubbing his back as he downs them.

"Maybe we should go get coffee?" Bebe suggests, "We can bring some back for Craig and Clyde – I know their Harbucks orders." Clyde doesn't really drink coffee, but she supposes that he'll appreciate a vanilla frappuccino nonetheless.

"What time is it?" Kenny asks into the trashcan.

Bebe turns to check the clock on the bedside table. It's a few minutes past eleven o'clock. She frowns, "Holy shit, we woke up late. It's eleven, dude." Considering last night's events, that's hardly surprising. She's a chronic late sleeper, and Kenny probably drank enough to sleep for a century and still wake up miserable and hungover.

"Fuck," Kenny sighs, face still in the trashcan.

"Mm, I'm gonna get dressed," Bebe says, "You don't have to come with me to get coffee if you want to stay here and rest for a little more." She was hoping to get him by himself, though. He has some _explaining_ to do about last night. She knows that they're attracted to each other, and they always have been, but Kenny's always been able to keep himself in check.

And because of what happened, now _she's _confused and horny. Kenny's a good-looking guy. He's slim and toned, has nice shoulders and soft hair, and light blue eyes that you could get lost in. His mouth is a work of God, and it was all over her for far too short a time. She dreamed of having it on her again, and now she's sore and tingly. Bebe knows that trying to kiss him again is seven levels of a bad idea, but she can't help but want it desperately. She doesn't have anybody really close to her to get advice on about it. Wendy's off on the east coast with her new friends, probably busy with leadership of some important cause or another, and Bebe isn't that close to anybody else. She guesses she can try and talk to Clyde, but that would require detaching him from Craig, which will take more effort than she can muster up at the moment.

She shucks off her pajamas and replaces them with denim shorts and a loose white tank top. It's a little see-through, making her red and white polka-dotted bra visible through the fabric, but since they'll mostly be driving today, Bebe can't find it in her to care.

"Mmph, don't leave without me," Kenny tells her, face still pressed against the trashcan, though there's a little more color in his cheeks than there was a few minutes ago, "I'm coming. Just need to put clothes on."

Bebe laces on her converse as Kenny pushes himself up and sifts through his duffel on the floor, pulling out the first two items he finds and sniffing them to make sure that they're okay to wear. She puts a touch of makeup on her face, just mascara and lipgloss, but enough that she looks better than she did yesterday, all exhausted and frizzy.

"Can I have a stick of gum?" Kenny asks, obviously intending to use the gum as a substitute for brushing his teeth while Craig and Clyde are still occupied in the shower.

Bebe fishes in her purse and hands one to him. She scribbles out a note to the others on the motel stationary before asking, "You want me to drive?"

Kenny says nothing and simply tosses her the keys. He has sunglasses on, but still makes a little whining noise when they exit the room and are hit by hard sunlight. She wants to touch him and reassure him, but Bebe isn't sure where they stand and can't say what is and isn't okay between them anymore. Kissing and anything sexual had always been off limits as per their agreement, but everything else – cuddling, hugging – was fair game.

Nothing makes sense anymore.

Bebe uses her iPhone to find the nearest Harbucks. The drive is short, but Kenny still sits in the passenger seat with his face planted in his knees and his hands over his head, making Bebe wonder why he even bothered to come with her when he could have been sleeping this off for at least another half-hour or so.

Bebe orders their drinks while Kenny sits at a table on the side of the Harbucks without windows, his head on the laminate. She brings his Americano to him and sits across from him, the other drinks nestled in a paper tray.

"Hey Kenny?"

"Mm."

"Can, um – what was up with last night?" she asks, feeling her heart beat harder against her ribcage, "I'm really fucking confused."

Kenny sets his chin on the table and peers at her through tired eyes. He says, "Can we not talk about this while I'm hungover? I feel like shit."

"It's not that fucking hard to explain to me what the hell was going through your head when you – you kissed me," Bebe bites out. She feels her fist clench in her lap, and takes a long swig of coffee to prevent herself from calling him names, which is something that she would really like to do right now, despite knowing that it will do nothing to help the situation. She does add, however, "And 'kissed' is putting it lightly, by the way."

"I know!" Kenny snaps. He runs his hands over his face and says, "God, I know. Can you just fucking leave it alone?"

"Fine," Bebe answers tightly, "Let's take these back to the motel." She stands and takes the coffee tray with her, flipping her hair over her shoulder haughtily. Kenny trails after her with his coffee in hand, but he doesn't speak, even as they climb into Goldilocks and Bebe asks him to hang onto the paper cup holder while she drives.

And fine, she can play that game, too. When they park back in front of the Sleep Inn, she pulls the coffee holder out of his grip without saying a word and flounces away, trying to not to put her nose in the air, but not exactly succeeding on that front.

Inside the room, Craig and Clyde are already fully dressed, hair still damp. Both of them seem to be in good spirits, enough that Craig even gives a terse 'thanks' when Bebe passes him his soy caramel latte.

Clyde touches her shoulder as she packs her things neatly back into her suitcase. He crouches down next to her and asks, "Hey, you okay?"

Bebe turns into his chest and hugs him close. Hugging Kenny is evidently off-limits now, something that's always managed to cheer her up through the years, and so she'll just have Clyde hold her. Clyde's hugs are just as good, firm and kind in the same way that Kenny's are, but something about Kenny's hugs made her feel _excited_, whereas Clyde's arms around her is merely comforting. It's not an inferior feeling, just a different one.

Clyde smooths a hand over her back and says, "Craig said something happened with Kenny but he doesn't know what it was. You know you can talk to me, right?"

"Ugh," Bebe expresses, "I know. I'm just, blah. Fuck. Feelings. They're everywhere."

Clyde laughs and helps Bebe stand up. He offers to help take her suitcase down to the car, and Bebe accepts, because he looks like he wants to feel helpful. Kenny trudges into the room without speaking. He smells like he smoked a cigarette before coming up. He tosses his empty Harbucks cup into the trashcan and stuffs his things into his duffel, throws it over his shoulder, and tromps out without another word.

"Jesus," remarks Craig, "What the fuck happened with you two?"

"I don't even know," Bebe responds, "and he's being a twat about it all."

"You say that like it's a surprise," Craig responds.

Bebe rolls her eyes at this and doesn't bother responding.

By noon, they're back on the road. Bebe drives with Clyde in shotgun. She refrains from playing music until she sees that Kenny's fallen asleep in the backseat, his head slumped onto her pillow and his legs up on the seat and curled into his chest. She opts for quiet music, Iron & Wine, because she knows that it won't wake Kenny up.

Craig drifts off after a few songs, and it's then that Bebe takes the opportunity to turn to Clyde and explain, "He kissed me last night."

Clyde quirks a brow and turns around to stare at Kenny's sleeping form before responding, "Did you like it?"

Bebe hadn't actually given that part much thought yet, she realizes. She's been too busy being angry at him to consider how it felt. She's acknowledged that Kenny's attractive.

"Fuck," Bebe responds, "I did like it." She's actually having some serious lady-boner issues over the whole incident. She can't stop thinking about what would have happened if he'd kept going. She'd wrap her legs around his waist and press into him, and maybe he'd slide the straps of her dress off of her shoulders and kiss the freckles there. Maybe he would have reached into her bra and taken his mouth one step further.

Oh, God.

She wants this with him way more than she thought that she did. If she wasn't driving, she'd cross her legs in an effort to get her to stop feeling so fucking frisky, but she can't, and so she just sighs out, "Damn it. He's being a dick right now, too. There's nothing I can do about it."

"He's just hungover," Clyde says, "Maybe when we stop to eat he'll snap out of it."

"I hope so," Bebe says, feeling her heart sink a little at this turn of events, "It's just that none of this had turned out like I hoped it would, and it just seems to be getting worse."

"I think you're worrying too much," Clyde chirps.

"I think you're optimistic because you got laid this morning," Bebe snips back.

Clyde flushes and says, "You heard that?"

"We both did," Bebe answers.

"Sorry," he says, tomato-red in the face and all the way up to his ears.

It's about an hour from Provo to Salt Lake City, where Bebe exits the highway and stops in front of a Chipotle for a late lunch. She and Clyde wake up Craig and Kenny, who blearily shuffle out of the car and into the restaurant. They sit at a table in the back of the restaurant, near the restrooms, and take turns going while somebody watches their burritos.

"Do you guys feel up to seeing some of the sights?" Bebe asks, setting her fork back down in her burrito bowl to scroll through a list of roadside attractions on her phone, "There's some rock garden near here with a sphinx that has the face of Joseph Smith."

Kenny cocks a brow at that and asks, "Wait, seriously? What's it called?"

"Um…the Gilgal Gardens," answers Bebe, "It looks kind of cool."

Kenny shrugs, "I'm up for it." He seems to be in better spirits now that his hangover his waning and he's gotten some food in him.

Bebe discovers as they finish up their meal and make their way to Gilgal Garden that although Kenny is feeling better and speaking to her again, he is pretending as though nothing happened between them last night or this morning. It's infuriating, but Bebe decides to ignore it while she's trying to have fun and worry about it when they have some down time. She won't let him wiggle out of this one with some lame excuse, like she does when he disappears for days on end and can barely explain his absence. That's fine and his business, because his absences seem to stress him out much more than they do her, though she worries over him tirelessly when they happen. But she's involved in whatever the fuck is going on this round – his mouth was all over her, for fuck's sake. If he's not going to do it again, she at least deserves an explanation of why it happened in the first place.

Clyde reverts back into paparazzi mode when they arrive. It's a quirky place, with idiosyncratic statues and stone body parts scattered in the grass. Clyde and Bebe take a Myspace-style picture together in front of the Joseph Smith sphinx and make stupid faces at each other, laughing the entire time. For a space of time, she almost forgets about everything that's been going on, but can't quite seem to stop it from looming in the back of her mind like a shadow.

Bebe breaks away from Clyde when sees Kenny with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his shorts, staring off near one of the sculptures. He's more looking past it than looking _at_ it, and Bebe waits a beat before touching his waist with the tips of her fingers and asks, "Penny for your thoughts?"

"Jesus, Bebe," Kenny says, "You scared the shit out of me."

She laughs and apologizes, then asks, "What's up? You zoned out."

Kenny half-smiles, but the expression doesn't look cheerful. He shrugs and says, "Nothing much. Nothing important anyway." He pulls her in by the shoulders, giving her a tight hug. Something in Bebe relaxes, relieved that Kenny is still touching her. Even if he's pretending not to have had his mouth on her, he'll still hug her and treat her like the friends that they were a mere two days ago. He reaches down and fiddles with her necklace, a sterling silver sparrow that Wendy bought her for her sixteenth birthday.

They're both silent for a long moment, just looking at each other with his arm hooked around her. Kenny's head dips a little. Bebe's heart slams against her ribcage when she realizes that he's about to kiss her again.

Except he doesn't. He pulls back and says, "We should probably get going. It's almost three, dude."

Bebe flicks on her phone to see that he's right and says, "Shit, son. I'll go gather the boyfriends. You start the air conditioning." She tosses him the keys and receives a salute in return.

Craig and Clyde aren't very far away. In fact, Bebe suspects that they may have been talking about her until they saw her approaching, because they fall silent, and Craig lets go of Clyde's hand as though hand-holding with one's boyfriend is some sort of dirty secret.

"What the hell was that with McCormick back there?" Craig asks.

Bebe answers sourly, "Fuck if I know. Come on, we're heading out."

Before they leave Salt Lake City, Kenny fills the gas tank again and they replenish their snack supply in the convenience store. Kenny drives and Bebe takes shotgun again. She touches the back of Kenny's neck while he drives and remarks, "Your sunburn looks like it's getting better."

"Is it?" he answers, glancing at her for a brief second, "That's good."

The conversation throughout the ride mimics just that, gruff and awkward sentences between the two of them, because neither of them wants silence. Silence, somehow, would be much worse than trying to speak to one another without discussing what the hell is going on, because in silence they would have actual time to contemplate what the hell is going on.

Bebe scrolls through local sites and mentions, "We should go see this 'Metaphor Tree of Utah' thing. It's like an hour from where we are now, right next to a state park."

"Fine by me," Kenny says. From the back of the car, Craig groans, but doesn't comment. Perhaps he's learned that they figured out not to humor his complaints. Kenny adds, "What is it, exactly?"

"Mm, it's a sculpture. I guess the artist bought the land, built it, and left," Bebe summarizes the information that the website she's on provides, "We may as well stop in Wendover for the night after that, I guess. It'll be evening anyway and we could go out to a bar or something."

"I'm in favor," pipes up Craig.

"I'm down," responds Kenny.

Clyde simply nods, and Bebe smiles at actually having a plan for once, although this one is only a couple hours in advance. The rest of the drive goes smoothly. Kenny plays more country-toned rock music and lets Goldilocks' top down as the fly down the highway. When he looks over to Bebe and offers a grin, she feels better about this whole strange day. Last night lingers in her head. Anticipation builds in her when she thinks about tonight. After they have a few drinks and a few laughs, surely Kenny will be more willing to talk about it, or at least explain and drop it.

She wants to tell him that she wants it to happen again, but considering his hot and cold reactions, she decides to keep this information to herself.

The Tree of Utah is visible from a ways away, and Kenny pulls over a solid few yards away. They take several goofy pictures before Clyde figures out how to rig his camera to take automatic pictures, and sets it on top of Goldilocks to get a shot of all of them grinning under the sculpture.

Only thirty minutes later, they hit Wendover, a small, vacant looking town. On the way in, Kenny spots a bar and points. He says, "How about we go to that one?"

"Ugh," says Craig, "that looks like some cowboy bar or some shit."

"So?" Kenny says.

"So, Clyde and I are _gay_, in case it escaped your notice," Craig responds, "We're not exactly popular with a bunch of small-town Mormons."

"I think it'll be fun," Clyde says.

Craig gives Clyde a look of helplessness. He says, "Really?"

"Come on," Clyde nudges him. He leans over and kisses Craig's cheek. It's the most affection that Bebe has ever witnessed between them with her own eyes, and she expects Craig to be a dick about it, but instead his sharp grey eyes soften, and he moves his hand to rest on Clyde's knee.

Craig grudgingly says, "Alright. Fine."

"Let's get settled at a motel first, okay?" Bebe suggests.

They choose the first motel that they see, which is a Best Western, and settle in a lower-level room for the night. Bebe takes a shower first, redressing in a fresh pair of panties and her same polka-dotted bra. She opts for an ivory-colored cotton dress and some leather sandals, and puts a little more makeup on her face, since she's going to be seen out in public for an extended period of time.

Well. And maybe Kenny would be more willing to explain himself if she can seduce him into doing so.

When she emerges from the bathroom, the boys are all already dressed. Clyde's in jeans and plain white t-shirt, though he has expensive-looking sporty shoes on. Bebe lifts a brow at Craig, who has opted for a black muscle shirt, tight jeans, and – Bebe chuckles, to which Craig gives her the middle finger – _purple cowboy boots. _

"Are you serious?" she asks him.

Craig responds, "I'm just going with the theme," and folds his arms over his chest defiantly.

And Kenny – Kenny will fit right in. He's in jeans and a plaid button down with the sleeves rolled up enough that Bebe can see the tattoos on his left arm. He smiles at Bebe and tells her, "You look really nice, baby doll."

"Thanks," she responds, "You do too."

"Ugh, will you two please just fuck and get it over with? The flirting is making me sick," Craig says, scowling deeply at both of them.

"Shut up, Craig," Bebe and Kenny snap out in unison.

The bar is close enough to walk to, so much to Craig's chagrin ("These boots are snug, okay?"), that's what they opt to do. It's only about ten minutes. From outside, they can hear country rock music and enthusiastic voices. Craig complains about the music and Kenny tells him to shove his opinion up his ass. Though country music isn't Bebe's favorite genre, she doesn't mind it from time to time, especially since she knows that Kenny harbors a not-very-secret love of it.

Kenny hooks his arm around Bebe's shoulders as they walk in. The bar has a homey atmosphere, and most of the people inside seem to already know each other.

"Where you guys from?" asks the bartender when they approach, putting her hands on her hips. She gives Craig a look up and down, focusing on his flamboyant cowboy boots before shaking her head and shrugging to herself.

"South Park, Colorado," answers Kenny. He gives the bartender a boyish grin, the kind of smile that works wonders on melting any predisposition not to adore Kenny. He's not even twenty-one until tomorrow, but the bartender doesn't bother checking his ID, probably entranced by his charming smile.

Clyde, Bebe and Kenny all order beers, while Craig orders something pink and fruity. It takes multiple drinks to dissolve the tenseness between Kenny and Bebe, but eventually they're telling jokes and laughing like old times. They chat with some of the locals.

"Excuse me, miss?"

Bebe turns to see a man that looks a few years older than they are. He has short sandy-blond hair and is good foot taller than she is. She cocks a brow and asks, "Can I help you?"

"I was wondering if I could have dance," he asks, a little color rising to his cheeks. His lips turn down, and he points behind her and adds, "Unless that guy there's your boyfriend."

Kenny's mouth is twisted into a frown, and there's a hitch between his brows.

Bebe turns back to the man and says, "No, he's just my roommate. I'm Bebe."

"Alex," he offers.

The next song starts. It's something with a good beat that Bebe recognizes. She's dances in sync with Alex and closes her eyes, letting herself sink into the sound of the music. That's the nice thing about some songs – you can get lost in them and forget that things are still happening in the world around you, like your best friend putting his mouth all over you and subsequently pretending that it didn't happen, or that nothing about this trip has gone according to plan except for the past couple of hours.

Except then, she feels a hand on her arm. Bebe opens her eyes and sees Kenny standing there. He holds out a hand in front of Alex and says, "I'll take it from here, dude." Something in Kenny's tone makes Alex hold up his hands in defense and walk off in the other direction, glancing only once over his shoulder as Kenny takes one of Bebe's hands and puts another on her waist.

"What did you do that for?" she asks, "He was nice."

Bebe sends a pleading look in the direction of the bar, but neither Craig nor Clyde is anywhere to be found. Bebe's guess is that they've gone back to the motel. Craig didn't look very comfortable in this environment, and she's sure that they're desperate to have some genuine alone time. Being crammed into a car with three other people can do that to a person.

"Bebe," Kenny says, "Look at me."

She does.

Kenny gazes at her, hard. It makes her breath feel short and insides clench up.

The song changes to something slower with more guitar. Kenny traces under her eye with his thumb and says, "I've been a dick today."

Bebe interrupts, "You're telling me."

Kenny retorts, "Excuse me, I am trying to have a moment here. I've been having this problem recently. I really like you, Bebe, and it's been fucking me up because I don't know what to do about it. What I want to do about now, though, is kiss you. You alright with that?"

Bebe nods dumbly, unable to find the right words. She lets her eyes slide closed, and a moment later, feels the warm press of lips up against hers. Kenny tastes like beer and himself. She leans up into him, pushing into his chest. He coils his arms around her and brings her up close.

"Fuck," Bebe says, when they part.

"Fuck is right," Kenny agrees.

"I – God, I – I need you," Bebe stammers out. She can already feel herself getting hot, but she just fucking _needs_ him right now.

"Yes, ma'am," Kenny grins. Before Bebe can get out another word, they're making a beeline for the door. Kenny locks his arm around her waist. The moment that they've made their exit, Kenny heaves her up and presses her against the brick wall outside the bar and kisses her hard. Bebe loops her arms around Kenny's neck and rubs up against him, sighing into his mouth.

God, he feels so good. She doesn't know how to describe it, exactly, just that having his arms locked around her feels perfect, like she's been waiting for years to do this with him. He tears their lips apart to press smaller, tighter kisses to the line of her jaw and down her throat.

"Shit," Kenny breathes out, "I've thought about this so fucking much, God, fuck." He dips in again to kiss her neck and nips down, sucking gently at her skin and coaxing a hickey to life.

Bebe moans helplessly at the scrape of his teeth over her sensitive skin and grips his hair, tugging when he bites down harder. He gasps and kisses down lower, trailing down to her cleavage. He cups her breast through the fabric of her dress and uses his thumb to peel down the top of the fabric. He mumbles in between kisses, "Jesus Christ, you have phenomenal tits."

Bebe chuckles, which cuts off when Kenny dips his tongue down into her bra, laving over her nipple. She yanks at his hair and curls herself around him, panting back, "I know. And I love when they get – _ah –_ paid attention to."

"Me too," Kenny grins. He pulls her up so that she can wrap her legs around his waist and their bodies press together. He's hard as rock against her, and a little noise that she can't help erupts from her throat.

She feels his hand creep up her thigh and dip under her dress, his fingers skimming the edge of her panties. He grins like a hyena up at her and kisses her again, whispering in her ear, "Mm, you're wet for me."

It's only as he reaches underneath the lace to stroke her that Bebe realizes, "Holy shit, we're doing this on the wall of a bar."

Kenny blows out a long sigh against her neck and says, "I guess banging up against a brick wall in public isn't the wisest move, is it?"

"Probably not," Bebe responds.

Kenny groans and withdraws his hand from underneath her dress, before detaching from Bebe almost completely. He runs his hands through his hair and says, "Fuck me. I'm sorry. I got carried away. I – fuck."

Bebe wraps her arms around his neck and kisses him again. She says, "Don't worry. We can just finish this at the motel."

"What if Craig and Clyde are there?"

"Payback."

The trek back to the motel is made as quickly as their legs can take them, punctuated by laughing and all-consuming kisses that make Bebe hot all over again. She gasps into Kenny's mouth one moment, and the next he's grabbing her wrist and running for their room. They dash through the parking lot and press together for a kiss near the door of their room –

Except that it slams open and Craig storms out. He's wearing sweatpants and worn-down looking blue hoodie over his bare chest, and flip flops on his feet. When he sees Kenny and Bebe latched together, a fiery look of scorn falls onto his face. He barks at them, "Man, fuck you guys!"

"What did we do?" Bebe retorts, momentarily forgetting that she doesn't want to fan the flames of whatever is wrong with Craig.

"Just – fuck you guys! You made Clyde believe that fucking _bullshit _about me, you know? This whole trip you've been like 'Oh, it's just Craig Tucker' or whatever, and now he doesn't _fucking_ believe that I love him. You know how many fucking years it took me to build up the fucking nerve to finally tell him that? And he fucking laughed at me! Because obviously me giving a damn about somebody other than myself is a fucking joke to everybody around here. I fucking hate you, and I hate everybody that has ever written me off because I'm 'just Craig,'" Craig zips up his hoodie and shakes his head, shoving past them and storming off through the parking lot.

Kenny and Bebe stare after him for a few seconds before turning to each other. Kenny ducks and presses a kiss to the center of Bebe's forehead and says, "I should probably go make sure that he's going to be okay. You go check on Clyde, yeah?"

Bebe leans up and gives him a chaste kiss before agreeing, "Yeah. You go get him," and Kenny jogs off after Craig.

Back in the room, Clyde is sitting on the mussed bed that he's sharing with Craig, wrapped up in a blanket and wearing nothing but boxers patterned in cartoon puppies.

"Are you alright?" she ventures to inquire.

Clyde sniffs and wipes under his eyes before he answers, "These cheap motel tissues make my nose hurt."

Bebe sits down next to Clyde on the edge of the bed and rests her head on his shoulder. She asks him, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"Not really," Clyde says, "I just want to eat Milk Duds and watch All Dogs Go to Heaven." This makes him start to cry a little more, and so Bebe wraps her arm around his shoulder and rocks him back and forth. Clyde adds, "I – I didn't think he was serious, Bebe. He'd never said that before, you know? That he loved me. I thought he was kidding. He jokes about us getting married all the time. I just – like, I thought it was an extension of that joke, or something."

"Shh, it's okay," she reassures him, "I'm sure he'll forgive you when you apologize, right? That's what people who love each other do."

"Not Craig," replies Clyde knowingly.

**o.o.o.o**

"Craig! Craig, wait up, dude," Kenny calls out, short of breath as he catches up to Craig's brisk walk.

"Fuck off," Craig spits out at him.

Kenny says, "Come on, man. Let's just go back to the room."

Craig veers around and marches toward Kenny with a flame in his eyes. He winds up his fist and punches Kenny in the gut, sending him stumbling back several steps before he catches himself on the pavement with one of his palms.

Kenny wheezes, "Jesus, dude, what the hell?"

"You don't know what it feels like, you stupid fucking asshole. I fucking told Clyde that I loved him. I'd been waiting to – to say that shit for years, you know? And he actually _laughed in my face. _You know, I never say anything unless I'm fucking serious, but nobody takes me seriously. Why the fuck is that, huh? I have been treated like that by everybody since I was a goddamn child, and for some dumbass reason, I thought that Clyde would act differently," Craig shouts the first half of his rant, but his voice begins to wither and quiet near the end. He pushes his hands through his dark hair and holds them over his face, breathing erratic. It takes a few wordless moments for Kenny to realize that Craig Tucker is actually _crying. _

Craig wipes his hands under his eyes an instant later. His eyes are red-rimmed, but otherwise there's no sign that he's been upset other than his typical frown. He laughs mirthlessly and comments, "Fuck."

Kenny finally gets to his feet. He doesn't step closer to Craig, and he doesn't reach out to touch him, because he suspects that Craig would appreciate neither of these things. He does, however, ask, "You alright, man?"

"No, dickbag, I am not _alright_," snaps Craig.

Kenny responds, "Well, I'm sorry, dude, I've never had something like that happen to me."

"Of course you haven't," Craig icily replies, "You're pretty fucking Kenny McCormick, the kid that everybody loves. It must have been so hard to be you, the blond, popular boy."

"Whoa," Kenny says, holding up his hands, "Where is this coming from?"

"I don't know," Craig says. He sounds broken.

There's silence between them after that. It's awkward, and makes both of them shuffle their feet and avoid the others' gaze. Finally, after Kenny has had enough quiet, he says, "I got some weed. You wanna smoke it with me?"

Craig stares and answers after a beat, "Do you even have anything to smoke it with?"

Kenny digs around in the pockets of his jeans and extracts his pipe, a tiny little thing. He holds it up and inclines his head at Goldilocks, "We can smoke it in my car. C'mon."

Kenny unlocks Goldilocks and they both slide into the backseat without speaking. Kenny packs a bowl and offers it to Craig first, who accepts. He lights it, and Craig inhales, exhaling on a shaken but grateful sigh. Kenny lets him have another hit before taking his first.

"You know something," Craig says, "I was so fucking jealous of you in high school. Maybe I still am. You were so fucking _normal_ compared to me. You just – knew how to deal with people, and pretty much everybody I knew wanted to fuck you. It pissed me off. You have lots of friends. I have Clyde, and that's just as good as lots of friends, but it's bad, because he's fucking everything to me, you know?"

Kenny never had a _best_ best friend, like Kyle and Stan, or Craig and Clyde. He always wandered from group to group of friends and didn't really care who he hung around, because he liked pretty much everybody. The thing is, he thinks that he understands what Craig means, because he's got Bebe now, and she's been _that_ friend to him for a couple years, now that everybody else has up and left. The thing about having lots of sort-of friends is that too many of them don't give enough of a shit about you. Clyde would die for Craig, and Kenny's pretty sure that Craig would die for Clyde, too.

"I always wondered what that would be like," Kenny replies, flicking his lighter on to take another hit before exhaling cloud of fragrant smoke and coughing a little before going on, "having a friend like that. Kyle and Stan, they care about me and all, but there's so much that I've never been able to share with them."

"I'm a fucking waste of space," Craig announces, maybe not to Kenny, just to the universe in general.

Kenny frowns, "Dude, don't say that."

"Why? It's true. I'm everything that society tells you not to be. I'm a basement-dwelling, people-hating homosexual."

"So?" Kenny says, "You have a guy that loves the fuck out of you. That doesn't happen as often as you'd think. I wish somebody would love me the way Clyde loves you. And you have your, um, guinea pigs. They love you too, I'm certain."

"Yeah, and how the fuck do my guinea pigs suddenly make me not a waste of carbon, huh?" asks Craig.

"Dude, I don't know. It's like, you just gotta live sometimes. Don't just poke at your life and keep expecting shit to happen when you need to let it alone and grow," Kenny responds.

"Holy shit, you're high," Craig laughs.

Kenny laughs, too. The atmosphere changes, after that. It's comfortable, easier between them. They pass the pipe until they're out, and even after that, they just sit together and trade far-fetched ideas and eat the snacks that they left in the car, not a care given to the fact that Kenny found the bag of gummy worms they're passing underneath the driver's seat and melted together.

"We should go back," Kenny says, after a long while.

Craig's smile melts off of his face, transforming back into his usual frown. He agrees solemnly, "Yeah, we should."

**o.o.o.o**

**Hello again! Thank you to my marvelous reviewers: Sami, lilykinz200, BattyCore, MissSouthPark, prettyoddrydonfan, and KirstenTheDestroyer. **


	5. All the Things Inside Me

**Chapter Track: One Rose – Why? **

Kenny wakes to pain, the source of which turns out to be Craig, who is scowling at him.

"What?" Kenny says, rubbing his eyes sleepily.

"You were cuddling me," Craig accuses acidly.

Kenny turns his face into his pillow and pulls the comforter back over his body, responding, "Was that all? I just do that in my sleep, dude, chill out." He wearily turns his eyes toward the other bed, where Bebe is tucked underneath Clyde's arm, looking tiny in comparison to his big body. They're both still asleep, or faking really well. When Kenny checks the time on the clock, it's only eight in the morning, far earlier than he feels he needed to be woken up at.

Last night, when Craig and Kenny had come back into the room, Clyde was flopped over asleep, looking cherubic and young with his teddy bear tucked underneath his arm. Bebe was next to him, biting down on her lip as she concentrated on writing in her notebook.

"You're sleeping over there," she'd said, and she pointed to the other bed, "I'm staying with Clyde."

"Oh, yes, poor Clyde," Craig had cuttingly replied. He seemed to come rapidly down from his high as soon as he remembered the events leading up to smoking with Kenny in Goldilocks' backseat, returning to his foul mood and slight hysteria.

Kenny, still high off of his ass and still horny, had sat next to Bebe and rested his chin on top of her notebook. "Whatcha writing?" he'd asked, giving her a sleepy grin.

Bebe set aside the notebook and her pink pen and shrugged, "Dunno. But I like it. C'mere."

He'd been more than happy to accept her invitation, even if he could feel Craig's gaze on the back of his neck and Clyde was sleeping innocently beside them. Kenny crawled into her arms, kneeling between her legs. She kissed him, snaking her arms up around his neck and drawing him in closer. She laughed at him when she pulled away and remarked, "Holy shit, you reek of weed, boy."

"Sorry," Kenny mumbled, "Can I still kiss you some more? I like doing that."

Bebe gave him a mischievous half-smile and pulled him in for more. They'd lazily made out, until Craig had groaned, "For fuck's sake, I take back what I said about wanting you two to fuck. Let's go back to sexual tension, okay?"

"We'd better go to bed," Bebe said softly.

Kenny had nodded and kissed her one more time before stripping off the day's clothes and sliding into bed beside Craig with a greeting of, "Hey baby," to which Craig had responded by hitting him. He remembers falling asleep fairly soon after that, and having pleasant dreams.

He feels his chest clench up as he stares at her, wondering if they'll continue where they left off, or if last night was nothing but a borderline sexual interlude, and now they'll revert back to friendship. Kenny doesn't know which of those two things he'd prefer, because both seem dangerous and confusing to him, but when it comes to Bebe, he's become resigned to confusion. She baffles him, and in some odd fucking way, Kenny gets off on it.

Often Kenny feels like an idiot in comparison to Bebe. She doesn't know, but while she was working an extra shift, he'd camped out in her bedroom and read through some of her notebooks, flipping through neatly written poems and spaced-out scribbled pictures. She legitimately has poetry to her, while he's simple and hands-on. Maybe he shouldn't have gone through her writing without her permission, but he'd wanted to know, and as they lived together longer and longer it was clear that she wasn't just going to show him her poems of her own accord.

"You've got it bad," remarks Craig.

Kenny rolls over to lift his brows and says, "Did I ask you?"

"Watching you two is like watching a bad romantic comedy," Craig goes on, rolling his eyes, "Just thought I'd contribute."

Kenny pulls a pillow out from under his head and smacks Craig with it before dragging himself out of bed. He announces, "I'm gonna shower," and locks the bathroom door behind him. He lingers under the water for longer than he should, but he finds himself drifting into thought. They've been going and going and he hasn't had a moment to pause on how surreal this all really is. He's doing something that he's always wanted to do, and now he's gotten to kiss the girl that he's always wanted to kiss (and fuck, though he knows that doing so probably isn't wise – while simultaneously knowing that if the opportunity presents itself, he'll do it anyway).

When Kenny emerges, Bebe and Clyde have woken up but neither has bothered to get out of bed. Clyde looks as though he's trying to hide underneath the covers of the bed, still holding his bear under his arm. Kenny doesn't blame him. If Craig was death-glaring at Kenny the way that he is at Clyde right now, he'd probably hide, too.

"Put your dick away, Craig," Kenny sighs upon assessing the situation, and he pulls off his towel to pull on a pair of boxers. He purposely lingers in his nudity, either to annoy Craig or to show off for Bebe, but he's fairly certain that it's actually both.

"Well?" he says, turning to look at Bebe and Clyde, neither of whom look like they're keen to get out of bed at this hour of the day, "Reno awaits. Let's get going."

"Do we have to?" groans Bebe, and she buries her head in her pillow. Her morning hair is corkscrewing from her head in all directions, something that she'll probably hate when she sees herself in the mirror, but that Kenny finds endearing.

Kenny almost says, the sooner we get to Reno, the sooner I can have my way with you, but refrains, realizing that Bebe wouldn't appreciate him saying that with Craig and Clyde here, or maybe she wouldn't appreciate it at all. They'd had a few drinks last night, though Kenny doesn't think it was enough to bring them out of their minds. But maybe he's already out of his mind.

Maybe Bebe sees what Kenny's thinking in the way that he looks at her, because he sends a look back his way that clearly says "I want to fuck you too." She rolls out of bed, looking cute and messy in her wrinkled pajamas.

"Alright, alright. I'm going," she says, "Dibs on shower."

An hour later they're dressed and ready to go with coffee in hand. Craig and Clyde don't take their usual suspiciously long bathroom break before they set off from the Harbucks parking lot, but Bebe does tug Kenny off to the side once they're out the door. She leans up and presses her lips to his, closing her eyes and, frankly, surprising the shit out of Kenny. He tastes like fruity lipgloss and vanilla latte and it makes him kind of horny, pulling her closer so that they can press into each other.

When Bebe withdraws, she says, "I hope that's still okay."

"Are you kidding?" Kenny grins, "It's fucking awesome." He has his hand on the small of her back and lets it wander down just a little further, testing the waters.

Bebe pulls his hand away from her ass, but winks, and says, "Why don't we wait until we're alone?"

His mouth opens, and that's how she leaves him, flouncing toward Goldilocks with a smirk plastered to her smug fucking face.

Kenny drives, since Bebe doesn't do mornings and he doesn't particularly trust Craig or Clyde when they're both being such pills. They refuse to sit next to each other (more accurately, Craig refuses to sit next to Clyde, and Clyde looks hurt an instant before declaring, "I don't want to sit next to you, either!"), and so Craig rides shotgun while Bebe leans her head against Clyde's shoulder in the backseat and reassures him that Craig is an asshat, loudly enough that Craig can hear exactly what she's saying. Kenny turns around and jerks his hand across his throat in a slicing motion – Craig seems genuinely upset, though he's doing a poor job of showing it.

"I wanna see Wendover Will," Kenny announces to the silent three people surrounding him, feeling the need to at least break the mother of all awkward silences that has stretched over them all.

"What the fuck is that?" asks Craig, "Because it sounds like something that I have absolutely no interest in, as per usual."

"It's the world's largest cowboy," answers Kenny, who not-so-secretly scrolled through roadside attractions on Bebe's phone while she showered, mainly because he needed something to prevent him from imagining Bebe in the shower.

Craig groans and complains, "Are you fucking kidding me? Can't we just drive for a day, instead of fucking around?"

"Can't you stop being a bitch for a day?" Bebe contributes to the conversation.

Craig twists around in his seat and flips her off, a moment that Clyde captures a picture of. At Craig's half-annoyed and half-bewildered expression, Clyde explains tartly, "I wanted to capture the attitude you've had for this entire damn trip."

Craig's jaw twitches a bit, and he looks like he's about one more taunt away from socking Clyde in the face. But instead of retorting with something clever, Craig merely responds, "You know what, Clyde? Fuck you." He turns back around and folds his arms across his chest, slouching into the passenger's seat and staring straight ahead.

They do stop at Wendover Will, if only because Kenny's the one driving and he wants a picture with it, which Clyde gladly offers to take for him. Craig refuses to even exit the car, instead opting to stay inside it with the air conditioning on and a glower plastered to his face. Kenny insists upon a picture with Bebe beside him, and finds himself smirking a little when she leans up and kisses his cheek. He thinks that he should probably text Stan and let him know about this turn of events, but they don't have service around here, and won't until they stop for lunch.

"There's a ghost town like an hour and a half out from here," Bebe says, as they pile back into the car, "It sounds really cool. Do you guys mind?"

"I do," Craig stiffly responds.

"Anybody other than Craig?" Bebe goes on.

"Sounds cool to me," Kenny says. He turns to look back at Clyde, who looks a little pale, and asks, "You alright, dude?"

"Just a little carsick," Clyde says softly, "I'll be fine. Let's go." Bebe places her pillow in her lap and lets Clyde rest there, running her fingers through his brown hair until he falls asleep. He remains asleep throughout the entire trip it takes to get to Bebe's ghost town, curled into himself like he's in pain. Kenny frowns at this, wondering if carsickness can do that to a person. But then, he never gets motion sickness of any kind. He's built sturdily.

Kenny thinks that were it not for Craig, Clyde would have remained in the car and slept off queasiness, but Craig stubbornly maintains that he will not leave Goldilocks. The dirt road that they turn off on makes for a bumpy ride. With each dip in the road, Kenny winces. Goldilocks rides too low to the ground for this, really, but he finds that he doesn't have it in him to tell Bebe that they can't visit her ghost town.

In the end, it's worth it, because Bebe rushes out with her notebook in hand and a straw hat on her head to block the sun from her face. Kenny would tromp on after her, but he hangs back with Clyde, who's walking slowly with a hitch between his brows.

"You need some water, dude?" asks Kenny, offering his water bottle to Clyde.

Clyde nods and answers, "That's probably a good idea." He uncaps it and takes a couple of swallows before handing it back to Kenny, but he still looks paler than usual.

The ghost town is called Metropolis, and was abandoned in 1935. What's left of it is rubble and concrete foundations, and an intricately carved archway that Kenny watches Bebe stop to stare up at. She promptly sits and opens her notebook and begins to scribble something down. He knows he can't stare at her forever, but he still stands in the same place for several minutes, watching as she formulates some new poem that he's certain is brilliant.

Eventually, he does break away, bringing Clyde with him to explore the ruins of a schoolhouse. Clyde takes pictures, though not with as much enthusiasm as Kenny is used to seeing.

"You should make this one your Facebook picture or something," Clyde mentions, leaning over to show Kenny a shot of him peering up the set of dusty stairs, his combat-booted foot perched on the first step.

They end up staying in Metropolis for over an hour, mostly because when Clyde and Kenny surface from the old schoolhouse, neither of them has the heart to interrupt Bebe's writing. When they're finally all packed up into the car, Clyde coughs and says, "Um, I hate to be rude, but could we maybe not go anyplace else? I feel kind of lightheaded."

Bebe hands Clyde her water bottle and a bag of trail mix that they've all barely touched because all four of them are bigger fans of junk food.

Normally Kenny wouldn't agree to pander to the comforts of one person, but Clyde seems genuine, and like he wishes that he didn't have to ask. They don't stop for a few more hours, when they're all on the brink of starving. They eat at a sketchy no-name waffle house. Even Craig is hungry enough that he doesn't bother complaining, digging into hash browns and a stack of pancakes the size of his head, utterly silent.

Clyde picks around his food, frowning a little at his plate like the food has somehow wronged him.

"You okay, honey?" asks Bebe, rubbing Clyde's back.

He shrugs and sets down his fork, replying, "I'm not really hungry."

"In that case, can I have your bacon?" asks Kenny.

Clyde pushes the entire plate toward Kenny.

By the time that they finally make it into Reno, it's nearly five in the evening, and the summer sun is still high in the sky. It's hot as all hell outside. None of them feel like exploring, and can't make it into their air conditioned motel room fast enough. Bebe flops onto the bed closest to the window, propping her arms underneath her head and closing her eyes with a soft sigh. Kenny wishes desperately that they were alone, because he's been having a hell of a time today thinking of all the things that he wants to do with her. Her little striped sundress is teasing the hell out of him. It's just low enough that he can see the tops of her breasts, and God, how he wants them out in the open.

As if God has heard Kenny's pleas, Craig turns to Clyde, who's curled up on the other bed, and says, "I want to talk to you. Out – there." He points toward the door to the motel room.

Clyde looks like he'd rather sleep, but he still slides up into a sitting position with a slow nod of consent.

**o.o.o.o**

Craig watches Clyde carefully as they slip out of the room. It's like a fucking oven outside, but Craig still walks along the concrete walk, gesturing for Clyde to follow him. He doesn't even know what the hell he wants to say to Clyde. He's angry, angrier than he's been in years. He also thinks that he's upset, but he doesn't want to admit that, especially to Clyde. Craig has never been the one that's gotten hurt. That's not who he is. He's stronger than that. He's_ better_ than that.

"What do you want?" asks Clyde, sounding more weary than cutting. He does add, however, "You've been acting like a jerk all day."

"You – laughed at me," Craig states. This is as much explanation as he feels Clyde needs. Craig doesn't know what kind of person laughs when they're told that somebody loves them, but evidently, that person is Clyde Donovan.

Clyde looks like he wants to throw up, or cry, or maybe both. He runs his hands through his hair, his forehead shining with sweat already, and says, "Well, I'm sorry. I already said that. I don't know what else you want from me, Craig."

Craig's mouth screws closed at that. He wants – well, fuck. He wants somebody that believes him, and believes _in_ him. Clyde _was_ that. Clyde had never once let Craig down. And he'd – fuck. Just, _fuck_. He'd trusted Clyde. He'd trusted him with the awful feelings that he has all twisted up inside him, and when Clyde had laughed at his confession it took all the wind from his sails. All day, Craig has felt as though he's living with bad lungs, diseased and dying. Every breath that he takes is a painful triumph, because he's surprised that he hasn't stopped being able to breathe yet.

"Don't look at me like that," Clyde says, as though he's the one that's been made the fool.

"Are you fucking serious, Clyde? I'm perfectly fucking entitled to my anger," Craig snaps.

Clyde wipes at his brow again and says, "I know that, dummy. I just don't know how to make it right, because you're being a dick. You just want to drag this out and make me feel worse."

"Are you – are you fucking serious?" asks Craig. Clyde has never acted like this, and it actually stings, salt on the proverbial wound.

Clyde is pale and sweating, frowning deeply. He just says wispily, "I'm really sorry. God, I just don't know what else you want me to tell you. I feel stupid, but you always make me feel stupid, so that's nothing new."

Craig feels his face heat at that accusation. He doesn't mean to make Clyde feel bad, but it's how he fucking defends himself. Whenever Craig lets himself be vulnerable, shit like this happens. He gets laughed at, and his feelings are dismissed.

"You are fucking stupid," Craig finally bites out. He can't stand being here any longer, not with Clyde looking at him the way a child looks at a Disney villain. Craig marches off, not even sure of what direction he's going in, what his destination is, or what he's going to do when he gets there. All he knows is that he just has to get away, away from Clyde, and away from the fucking Wonder Twins, who are doing God-only-knows-what back in the motel room.

In a last moment of weakness, he glances over his shoulder. Clyde is walking in the other direction, but not toward the motel room. He's going down the same sidewalk as Craig, only the other way.

Good. They could all use some time apart.

Craig shakes his head and walks on.

**o.o.o.o**

Bebe watches Kenny wait a beat before he turns to her and gives her a look.

"They'll come back soon," Bebe warns.

"I'll put the 'Do Not Disturb' thingie on the door," Kenny defends, and that's all Bebe needs to give him her consent. His face breaks out in a grin and he plucks the door hanger from its place on the bedside table, ducking out for an instant to proudly display it on the doorknob. He pulls off his t-shirt as he eagerly stumbles back to where Bebe is laying back on the bed. She feels a little tingly with anticipation, laughing as Kenny launches forward onto the bed, making them both bounce as he crawls forward to box her in with his limbs and kiss her.

Bebe loops her arms around his neck and presses him close, licking along his lower lip.

"We probably shouldn't be doing this," she says against his lips. She desperately wants to do it, though, and she has a feeling that if Kenny doesn't heed this warning, she won't say it again.

He cocks his head and asks, "Does that mean you don't want to?"

Bebe shakes her head and lets out a soft laugh, "No…no, I _really_ want to." She skims her fingertips over Kenny's chest. He's tattooed on one side of his collarbone and down his left arm, all classically drawn designs that his brother did for him in exchange for getting his car fixed. They're beautifully drawn – it had been a surprise to find out that Kevin McCormick was actually good at something. Bebe runs her hand down his arm. She's already hot – hot enough that she sits up and pulls her blue and white sundress over her head, casting it onto the cheap carpet.

Kenny's eyes follow it as it drops to the floor before looking back to her. He crouches and stares for a long moment before he leans forward and kisses her neck, using one hand to cup her left breast, moving his thumb over the purple lace over her nipple.

"Fucking hell, Bebe, I've wanted this for way too long," he murmurs, moving his lips over her collarbone, where he teases a hickey to life with his tongue and teeth.

"Me too," she admits, gasping and arching up when he replaces his thumb with his mouth, moving his tongue over her through translucent lace. He moves to the other, teasing it to swell up with appreciation. He presses kisses to each breast and between them, before his hands snake behind her back. He masterfully undoes the hooks of her bra, pulling it off of her shoulders. He tosses it onto the floor, beside her dress.

Kenny kisses her forehead, then her eyelids, her nose, her cheeks, and finally her mouth before he takes each of her breasts in his big hands. His fingers skim over her skin in the best way, a way that makes her feel like she's waking up after a hundred-year sleep. She launches off of the mattress when he gently uses his teeth to toy with her nipples. A surge of feeling goes straight between Bebe's legs. She rubs herself up against him. He's hard, and it makes her all the more desperate to have him inside her.

Kenny hums against her lips before applying a kiss. He cups her ass in his hands and pulls her closer to him, bending to kiss her stomach, toying with the barbell through her navel with his tongue before his warm fingers drag across the lace top of Bebe's panties.

"Please," she whispers.

He smirks at her before sneaking his fingers past the edge, barely touching her, just stroking her from the outside. She grinds herself against his hand with a helpless little noise, and he asks quietly, "What do you want me to do, pretty girl?"

"I want you to touch me," Bebe responds. She yanks him forward into a kiss and he moves his tongue against with movements just as desperate as she feels. He chuckles when he pulls away, his eyes glinting with mischief.

Finally, he slides one finger inside her, teasing. She can feel how slick she is and it makes her moan softly, pressing into his touch. Sounds that she didn't know she could make tear from her throat, sighs and high keens as he slides another finger inside her and begins to play with her, expertly moving his fingers.

Kenny gradually sneaks back, withdrawing his fingers and pulling her panties down her thighs and over her legs. Bebe whines and he smiles, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. He noses at the inside of her calf and kisses underneath her knee, pulling her closer to him and pushing damp kisses to the insides of Bebe's thighs.

And then his mouth is on her, his tongue inside her, making her buck up into his mouth. He holds her hips down, his grip hard enough that she'll have bruises of his fingertips on her skin.

"_Kenny_," Bebe manages, before an orgasm is crashing over her in dizzying waves.

Kenny slinks off of the mattress and reaches into the back pocket of his jeans, pulling out a condom packet and tossing it onto the bedspread, near Bebe's pedicured feet. He unbuttons his jeans and slides them off of his hips at a painstaking pace, watching her with every movement as he strips down to nothing. His cock is flushed and leaking at the tip. He touches himself, just lightly, and moans at the stroke of his own hand before he crawls back up onto the bed. He rips open the condom package and rolls it over himself, breathing hard.

Bebe shifts her legs to wrap around his waist. She didn't realize that he'd look this good naked and about to be inside her, all slim and hazy-eyed and pink-cheeked. Just as she feels him start to press inside of her, he stoops to kiss her, and shake his head, saying against her lips, "You're right, we probably shouldn't be doing this."

Bebe pants, "Does that mean you're going to stop?"

"_Hell_ no," he answers.

And then Kenny is inside her with one solid thrust. They both groan, and Kenny buries his face into her hair as he begins to work in and out. He cups her breasts in his hands and kisses her neck, mumbling swear words and compliments all in the same heaving breaths.

He smiles at her when he pulls his head back, tucking a curl behind her ear. She wraps her legs tighter around him. He feels so good in her, she feels so full, almost like she can't take anymore but she never, ever wants it to stop at the same time.

Bebe grasps him by his shoulders, her nails digging into his back when he surges into her in exactly the right way. She arches into him and pushes up, bringing him down onto his back and sitting back down on him with a loud slap of skin. She feels a little bit of old self-consciousness seep into her when she starts to ride him slowly – her breasts are huge, and she's always been afraid that they jostle too much, that they're suffocating – all sorts of things. But Kenny just smiles like he's drunk and runs his tongue over them, holding her close to lick and suck.

And then his hand creeps down to where their bodies meet, and he begins to touch her, sending electric sensations shuddering through her entire body. She cries out, and realizes that she's hit climax again, stilling where she sits on top of Kenny and clenching up around him.

Kenny coils his arms around her back and locks their lips together. He tastes like _her_, and it's all so perfect that Bebe could cry. He thrusts up into her from below only twice more before her shouts her name into her freckled shoulder and comes, holding their bodies flush against each other.

Bebe whines when he grasps her hips and pulls her off of him, setting her gingerly on the mattress beside him. He slides off of the bed to throw the condom into the trash can, but he comes back, jumping onto the bed and kissing Bebe hard.

"You're so fucking amazing," Kenny tells her, pushing a little kiss to her brow before bringing her in for a cuddle.

She feels her chest clench up at those words. She stares at Kenny. His blond hair is sticking to his forehead, glued there by sweat, and his eyes look energized and happy. _This _is the Kenny that she's been hoping that she'd see on this trip, not annoyed Kenny or distant Kenny or acting-weird Kenny. She wanted delighted Kenny. It makes her feel so full and warm to see him like this, and she cuddles right back into him.

Bebe responds, "You are too." It's the truth. He works hard and plays hard, and never half-asses a single thing. Kenny is passionate, and he lives life like he could die any day. She feels a strange twist when she realizes how legitimately grateful she feels to have a chance to be with him like this, naked and sweaty and cuddled up together, with his arms looped around her and his lips in her hair.

"I could sit like this forever," Kenny tells her, petting a hand over her loose curls. He hooks his leg around hers and smiles down at her.

"Mm," Bebe agrees.

She drifts in and out of sleep, waking up only once to find Kenny out cold and wrapped around her like a blanket. She kisses his neck, which smells of sweat and his shower gel, feeling a bone-deep contentment settling into her before fading back into sleep.

When she wakes again, somebody is banging on the door. She groans, and feels Kenny shift to look toward the motel room door. Outside the window, it's dark outside. At the sight, Bebe feels her gut swoop down. She asks Kenny, "Did we remember to take the hanger off of the door?"

Kenny rubs one of his eyes with his fist and mumbles, "Shit."

Clyde's muffled voice comes from the other side of the door, and even with the wall between them, he sounds strained and weary. He says, "Guys, please let me in. I don't have a key with me and I really want to lie down. Guys?"

"I'll let him in," Kenny says. He stumbles forward and collects his underwear, announcing to Clyde, "I'm coming, just let me get my shorts on, dude."

Bebe stands, her legs a little wobbly. She digs a t-shirt out of Kenny's duffel and pulls it over her head, wondering if he'll mind that she nicked one of his things. It's a green Flogging Molly t-shirt, one that he bought at the concert that they went to together a couple of years ago. She smiles at the memory and hugs herself, smelling the fabric.

Kenny opens the door and Clyde comes bumbling in. He looks like he's about to faint, which instantly wipes the schoolgirl-type thoughts from Bebe's mind. She stops Clyde and inspects him before asking, "Honey, are you okay?"

"I just need to lie down," he says.

She doesn't believe him. He's sheet white, sweaty, and looks like death. Bebe reaches up and smooths back Clyde's hair so she can feel his forehead. "Holy shit," she says, "You're burning up. Are you sure you're okay?"

"No," Clyde responds, looking relieved, like he thought he had to pretend not to be sick for their sake.

Bebe smacks his arm and says, "Change into pajamas and get into bed. I'll get you some water, okay? Is there anything else you want?"

Clyde hesitates for a moment. His eyes flick down to his feet and he answers to the ground, "Craig." He wrings his hands together, and when he looks back up at Bebe he looks as though he might cry.

Bebe leans up and kisses Clyde on the cheek. She answers softly, "I'll try calling him."

"Thanks, Bebe," Clyde says, and he wanders to his bag, which he unzips and digs around in before procuring a pair of South Park Cows sweatpants and a t-shirt with a smiling ice cream cone on it. Bebe takes the keys to Goldilocks to get their water bottles, and hopes that the water isn't too hot from being in the warm car.

When she returns, Clyde is wrapped up in his blanket, shivering. He looks like he's seen a ghost, or maybe like he himself is the ghost.

"Should we take him to the hospital?" Bebe asks Kenny, frowning deeply.

"It's just a fever," shrugs Kenny, "How about we wait out the night and see how he feels in the morning?"

Bebe hums at this and parks herself on the edge of Clyde's mattress. She runs a hand through his hair and says, "I brought you some water." Clyde takes the bottle from her and chugs it down, setting it aside when it's empty on the table between their beds. She mouths at Kenny to hand her phone to her, and scrolls down on her list of contacts, hoping that Craig still has the same cellphone number that he did in high school.

It rings once before going to voicemail – "_Craig Tucker. You know what to do._"

"Craig, I am going to fucking kill you for ignoring my call. Clyde is sick. Come back soon, twat. Peace."

Just in case, Bebe also sends a terse text message to the same number, _Clyde is really sick. Asking for you. Come back._

"Is he coming?" asks Clyde.

Bebe smooths a hand over his damp hair again and says, "I hope so." Clyde whines at that, but Bebe promises to stay with him as long as he needs. She offers to read to him and takes Game of Thrones out of her purse, since it's the only book that she brought with her. She flips to the first page and begins to read while rubbing a hand over Clyde's back, hoping that if Craig doesn't return soon that Clyde will at least be able to fall asleep. He tries, his eyelids fluttering and his body curling in, but he seems simply too uncomfortable to be able to do it.

Either that, or Clyde is waiting for Craig.

"Kenny?" Bebe murmurs, getting his attention from where he's stretched out on their messy bed, listening to her read to Clyde.

"Hm?" he responds.

"Can you try calling Craig again? I think Clyde might be waiting for him," Bebe explains, voice hushed. She knows that Clyde can hear her, but she doesn't know if he's lucid enough to understand what she's talking about. She keeps rubbing his back, unsure of what to do to make him feel better beyond reading to him and making sure that he's comfortable.

Kenny scrolls through the contacts on his phone, but before he can even dial Craig's number, the doorknob starts to jostle, and Craig bursts into the motel room, breathing heavily. He demands, "Is he okay?"

Kenny responds, "He's not gonna die or anything, but he's pretty sick, dude."

Craig marches to where Bebe sits beside Clyde. She tightens the grip of her arm around him protectively, glaring, and hoping that her message gets through to Craig – he's not allowed to be an asshole now, not with Clyde shivering and feverish and restless like this.

"Move," Craig orders, "I've got him."

Bebe's brows lift. She studies Craig, gauging how serious he is about this, and decides that she can let it fly. She closes Game of Thrones and leans down to smooth Clyde's hair back from his forehead as she speaks gently to him, "If you need anything, you just holler, okay?" Clyde nods, and Bebe stands up, casting Craig a final look of warning before she stands beside Kenny.

Craig scowls at them both as he strips off his tightly fitted t-shirt and jeans and climbs in beside Clyde in nothing but his briefs. He spoons Clyde from behind, and from there, it's as if he and Clyde are in their own little bubble, like Kenny and Bebe aren't watching from less than three feet away. Craig runs his hand through Clyde's hair like Bebe did, but it's different somehow. He kisses the back of Clyde's neck.

"Craig?" Clyde hoarsely asks, like he's been oblivious to everything that has happened up until Craig's lips were on his skin.

"I'm here," answers Craig, looping his arms around Clyde's middle and pressing close to him, "I've got you."

It's intimate enough that Bebe suddenly feels the need to look away, not wanting to intrude, even though Craig is clearly past giving a damn what she and Kenny see or hear him do with Clyde. She glances down to where Kenny sits on the edge of their mattress. He's already staring back at her. He mumbles, "I could use a cigarette. You wanna come with?"

Bebe nods, following Kenny as he unzips his backpack and extracts his cigarettes and lighter. They sit just outside of the door. Kenny offers Bebe a cigarette, which she accepts. She feels that after having a roller coaster of a day like this one, she deserves to smoke a little. Kenny lights both of their cigarettes before resting his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in close. He exhales a cloud of smoke and says, "You look sexy in my t-shirt."

Bebe blushes and nudges him with her elbow, taking a drag off of the end of her cigarette. She leans her head on Kenny's shoulder, and they sit like that for several minutes, silently smoking and enjoying each other's company, no words needed.

Kenny flicks the butt of his cigarette into the parking lot and asks, "Hey, Bebe?"

"Yeah?" she replies.

"What is – uh, this thing we have going?" he asks, motioning between them.

Bebe shrugs and answers, "I have no fucking idea. Do you?"

"Nah," Kenny responds, "But I like it."

"Me too," Bebe agrees. Kenny smiles at that. It isn't a grin, just a subtle lift of his lips. He kisses her, holding her jaw in his warm hand and moving the pad of this thumb along her cheekbone. She leans into him and enjoys the moment, kissing back until they can't breathe, and break away.

When they slip back into the motel room, Craig holds a finger up to his lips and points to Clyde, who's fast asleep where he's tucked into Craig's arms. It looks a little odd, with how big Clyde is and how stick-slim Craig is. Still, the irritation that Bebe feels toward Craig melts away a little at the sight. She didn't know that he could be like this, holding Clyde like he's the most precious thing on the planet to him. Bebe supposes that this Craig is usually reserved for Clyde and Clyde alone, but that Craig has had to make do due to the circumstances.

Bebe brushes her teeth and picks out her curls before she wanders back to bed, slipping in under the covers beside Kenny. The sheets still smell faintly of sex, especially as Bebe inches closer to Kenny and he wraps his arms around her. She waits for a nasty remark from Craig, but hears none, and so she kisses Kenny goodnight, and falls asleep.

Bebe jerks awake in the middle of the night. She sighs and turns in Kenny's grip, wearily looking over at the clock. It isn't even yet three in the morning.

And then she hears it, from the other bed. Crying. It's Clyde. She almost tears herself out of Kenny's grip to make sure that he's okay, but then she hears Craig hushing him.

"I'm s-so sorry, Craig," Clyde babbles through his tears. Bebe frowns. She probably shouldn't eavesdrop, but she has little choice when they're stuck in the same room together.

"It's alright," Craig says. His voice has none of its typical cutting quality, and is instead soothing. He goes on, "Clyde, seriously. Don't cry. It's not that big a deal."

"Yes it is," Clyde sniffles, "You said you lo-loved me and I laughed at you. I'm terrible."

"You're not terrible," Craig assures him, "I – overreacted. I'm sorry, too. Now try and go back to sleep, okay? You feel like you're on fire, baby."

Clyde quiets at that. Bebe gets the feeling that Craig is not consistent user of pet names, that calling Clyde 'baby' is something rare, something special. It's something in the way that he says it so softly, and how Clyde stops sniffling in an instant. Bebe closes her eyes and shifts back against Kenny, clutching onto him. He's out cold.

As she begins to float back down into sleep, Bebe decides that she'll pretend that she never heard anything. It was a moment that belonged solely to Craig and Clyde, and she doesn't want to take that away from them.

When Bebe wakes again, it's to the sound of Kenny shouting. Her eyes open to their room brightly lit with sunlight. She holds her arm over her eyes and groans, "What's going on?"

"Craig stole my fucking car," Kenny fumes. His hair is still wet from showering, and he's wearing nothing but his boxers and a pair of unbuttoned jeans.

"What?" Bebe dumbly responds, sitting up. She rubs the sleep out of her eyes.

Craig is certainly no place to be found, but Clyde is still wrapped up in the comforter on the other bed, looking just as pale as he did last night. His feverish eyes flick from Bebe to Kenny. He licks his lips and rasps out, "I'm sure he'll be back."

"And he couldn't have left us a fucking note or something?" Kenny rages, running both hands through his damp blond hair.

"Do you know when he left?" Bebe asks Clyde.

Clyde shakes his head, and Kenny is the one that answers her. He says, "It has to be when I was in the fucking shower, because he was here before that, the fucker."

"I'll call him," Bebe sighs. She slides out of bed and crosses the room to her purse, digging around for her phone. Only – there's something missing. She questions, "Where the hell is my wallet?" She digs through her purse again, but she knows it's fruitless. She carries around a big-ass wallet, one with all her punch cards for various places and all her loose change that she forgets to dump in the change jar in their apartment.

"Craig took it," Clyde deliriously says from the bed.

"What! Why?" demands Bebe, feeling her rage at Craig return with a vengeance.

"I don't know," answers Clyde, looking guilty. She's just as pissed as Kenny is about his car, but she can't take it out on Clyde. Poor Clyde looks like walking death. Or, more accurately, not-so-walking death.

Bebe shakes her head and calls Craig. Her call goes straight to voicemail, and she doesn't even bother leaving an angry message, just hangs up and throws her phone on the bed she's sharing with Kenny. Kenny tries texting Craig but doesn't get a response. All they can do is pace the hotel room and try not to openly discuss their plans to murder Craig while Clyde is lying right in front of them, looking like he needs to throw up or cry, or perhaps a combination of the two.

Half an hour later, the motel room door opens. Craig appears. He doesn't even blink at Bebe and Kenny's furious faces, just tosses Kenny's keys to him and hands Bebe her wallet. In his other hand is a large Jamba Juice.

"Are you fucking serious?" Bebe asks, "You stole his car and my wallet to get yourself a fucking Jamba Juice?"

"Chill out," Craig says, waving her off. He kicks off his shoes and climbs back into bed. He sets the Jamba Juice cup on the table between their beds and helps Clyde sit, propping him up with pillows. Craig goes on, "It's not for me, you nimrods. Here. It's strawberry banana." He hands the smoothie to Clyde, who gives Craig a wobbly, grateful smile.

"He's still got a fever," Craig explains, holding the smoothie cup while Clyde sucks on the straw.

Bebe smears her hands over her face and lets out a long sigh before looking to Kenny. "Guess we're staying in Reno for another day," she says.

**o.o.o.o**

**Thank you to my lovely reviewers for encouraging me as usual: BattyCore, Cchall, lilykinz200, prettyoddrydonfan, and KirstenTheDestroyer. You guys are awesome!**

**I'd like to note that this story is probably going to be shorter than my usual fics – At most it will have someplace around 8-10 chapters. I'm not sure how many it will take to write all the things I want to include. **


	6. Let Me Take You Down

**Chapter Track: Strawberry Fields Forever – The Beatles**

They have a lazy morning, wherein after Craig returns with his spoils for Clyde, Bebe flops back onto the bed that she's sharing with Kenny and huddles back under the covers, not ready to be awake yet. Kenny shuffles around for awhile before he joins her, sliding into bed and pulling the covers up over their heads. He grins at her and kisses her neck, and she groans sleepily in protest. It makes him feel warm to be this way with her, kissing and closer. In some ways it feels barely different than the way that they were before – they've always flirted and cuddled and teased each other about sex – but in some ways, this is so much different, so much _better_, that Kenny has to pause to appreciate it.

Eventually they shift so that Kenny can watch movies on his laptop while Bebe sleeps on his shoulder with his arm wrapped around her. He has his hand up past his t-shirt that she's wearing, resting on the small of her back and stroking the smooth skin underneath. He'll have to tell her later how fucking sexy she looks in nothing but his big t-shirt and her little cotton panties. She's worn his clothing before – his hoodies and shirts (and once one of his work jumpsuits, just for laughs) – but it's somehow different. He has seen every inch of skin that lies under that fabric, and he wants to memorize everything.

Bebe has a mole underneath her left breast.

And a sparrow tattoo near her lower back.

She has freckles on her shoulders.

And she wears a navel ring with a fairy charm dangling from it.

She's distracting him now, even though she's just asleep in the crook of his arm, curled up in a ball and breathing evenly.

"Jesus, put your dick away," Craig says from across the room, where he has a different movie set up for Clyde.

Kenny doesn't even bother taking out his headphones or answering, he just lifts his middle finger and keeps running his knuckles over the warm skin on Bebe's back.

Bebe wakes up for real a little more than an hour and a half later, a sleepy smile playing on her lips when Kenny notices that she's no longer asleep. He spares a glance at Craig and Clyde, who are propped up against each other in the other bed and watching the Disney version of Robin Hood, before he ducks and presses a quick kiss to those lips, smiling back. He pulls out his right headphone and greets, "Good morning, sugar."

"I've gotta shower," Bebe mumbles, pushing herself up into a sitting position and rubbing her eyes.

"Mm, I wanna come," Kenny responds, grinning.

Bebe rolls her eyes and runs a hand through Kenny's hair, shaking her head. She says, "Eventually. But not today." She pulls her clothes out of her suitcase before slinking off toward the bathroom, closing the door behind her. He gives a little sigh and sticks his headphone back in, picking up where he left off in The Two Towers and thinking about how nice that shower with Bebe might have been if she'd let him come with her.

She emerges a half-hour later, curls damp and picked out, and a white dress with cherries on it fitted to her curvy body, making Kenny's mouth well up a little.

"Well, I'm fucking starving," she says, "You wanna get out of here and grab something to eat?"

"I'm staying with Clyde," Craig says, "but bring me something when you decide to come back, I guess."

"Any requests?" Bebe asks.

Craig shrugs, "I'm okay with whatever."

Bebe straps white sandals onto her feet, and Kenny slips into his combat boots, hooking his arm around her waist while they laugh their way to Goldilocks. They settle on eating at a Chipotle, where they take a table in the front of the joint before diving into their burritos face first, making no conversation whatsoever until they're too stuffed full of good food to manage another bite. They let themselves chill out there for a few minutes, basking in after-Chipotle glow and exchanging small talk.

They decide to roam around downtown. It looks pretty at night from a distance, but up close and lit by the sun, the streets of Reno are a little sketchier.

"Can I ask you something?" Kenny says, when they duck inside a Harbucks and order at the counter, leaning back against the wall while the wait for their drinks to be made.

"Mm," Bebe answers. She digs around in her purse and retrieves a tube of pink lipgloss, running the wand over her lips and smacking them together so her lips are sweet-looking and sticky.

"When did you get that tattoo? Of the bird on your back?" asks Kenny, touching where the sparrow is underneath the fabric of her dress with the tips of his fingers.

Bebe's coy smile fades, and Kenny gets the feeling that he just asked her a question that he wasn't supposed to. She frowns a little and says, "I got it a little bit after I turned eighteen. Why?"

"I was just curious," Kenny supplies, feeling himself frown, too, "It mean something? You're looking all sad now, baby doll."

"Yeah," Bebe responds, hugging her arms like she's cold. She gives him a forced smile and says, "Let's sit down with our coffee first, and then I can tell you, okay?"

Kenny nods to that. He doesn't know what to do, exactly, so he twines his fingers loosely with hers before giving her hand a squeeze. Their drinks come shortly after, and Bebe pulls Kenny along to a secluded table in the back of the building, where it's quiet. She sips at her coffee and says, "This is between you and me, okay?"

Kenny nods, about to say _I've got my serious hat on_, but deciding against it.

Bebe takes in a deep breath and explains, "When I was seventeen – I – ha. Um. I got pregnant."

"_What_?" Kenny dumbly responds, "Shit, sorry. Keep going."

"It was – it didn't last long. I didn't even tell the dad before, um. I miscarried," Bebe explains, her eyes focused on her coffee cup rather than on Kenny. She thumbs at the edge of her lid and quietly goes on, "I was – well, I wanted it. So I got the sparrow tattoo. To remember it. I guess it sounds kind of stupid. But it means a lot to me. I'd appreciate it if you kept this between us, okay? Only my mom ever knew about the baby. And Clyde – Clyde came with me to get the tattoo."

"Fuck," Kenny says, because he feels as though he should say something, but still hasn't quite figured out what that is. He's inappropriately curious about the whole ordeal, but Bebe looks like she's about a half-step from breaking down and crying in the back of this Harbucks, so he just reaches across the table and holds her hand – it's all he's got. Kenny's almost angry that he didn't know until now, not at Bebe, but at himself – because where the fuck was he? He and Bebe always got along in high school. They weren't close, but they'd definitely been friends. Friends enough that he should have noticed something of this caliber going wrong in Bebe's life.

Bebe looks up after a few silent minutes and says, "Thanks, Kenny."

"For what?" he asks, bewildered.

"For not freaking out, I guess," she says, "I didn't even tell Wendy, back when that happened. I knew she would tell me how stupid I was being for keeping it, and if I told her about the miscarriage, she'd want to know why I never told her in the first place, you know?"

They finish their coffee in silence, Kenny's hand still covering hers. He still doesn't know what to say or do, but he wishes that he did. When they throw their paper cups in the trash and walk back out to Goldilocks, Kenny impulsively brings her in for a hug, snaking his arms around her waist and pulling her tightly into him. He puts his lips to her forehead and tangles one of his hands in her curls before glancing back down at her.

"What was that for?" she asks.

"If you ever need serious talk," Kenny says, "I promise you can come to me. I know I act like a moron most of the time, but you just give the word and I'll straighten out, you hear?" He leans down and kisses her, feeling strangely exposed, like his insides are cut open and everybody's come to look at the organs spilling out of him. Bebe kisses back, hard, and coils her arms around his neck.

When she pulls away, she wipes the lipgloss from Kenny's mouth with her thumb and tells him, "You're not a moron. You're one of the smartest people I know. And I already knew that I could come to you for help if I needed it."

Her words make him feel stupidly giddy, and he feels like he needs to tell somebody – but taking out his phone and texting _Bebe thinks I'm smart_ to Stan seems embarrassing, so Kenny just smiles and leans down to kiss her again, before they both load back up into the car and head back to Chipotle to pick up food for Craig.

**o.o.o.o**

They end up hitting the grocery store on the way back, too, to grab saltines and ginger ale for Clyde. Bebe bets that he'll be sad that he can't have Chipotle like Craig, but with whatever he's got in his system, she doesn't trust him enough not to throw everything they feed him right back up.

Kenny and Bebe return to the motel room quietly, in case Clyde is sleeping, but he's awake, lying with his head in Craig's lap. A little color looks like it's back in his cheeks, but he's still pale and gaunt, hanging onto Craig with his round arms around his waist.

"How are you feeling, honey?" Bebe asks him, leaning to place her hand on his forehead. He's still feverish, though not quite as sweaty and delirious-looking as before. She holds up the grocery bag in her hand and says, "We brought you some crackers and ginger ale."

Clyde looks relieved at this news, and Craig takes the bag from her hands. She offers, "We got you some Chipotle, dude."

Craig looks down at Clyde and says, "The smell will make him sick."

Clyde moans into Craig's stomach, "Go ahead and eat it outside. Bebe can sit with me or something."

Craig runs his fingers through the fine hairs at the base of Clyde's neck and asks, voice soft, "Are you sure?"

"Mm, I'll be fine," Clyde says.

They shift, and Craig leans down to kiss Clyde, which Clyde stops, and says, "I don't want you to get sick." Craig frowns at this, and ducks down to press his lips to Clyde's cheek instead. It's sweet – one of those moments in which Bebe is starting to realize that she cannot possibly hate Craig anymore. He extracts himself out from under Clyde, but makes sure that Clyde is situated on a pillow before stumbling out toward Kenny, who's holding up the fat, foil-wrapped burrito in his right hand.

"Thanks, man," Craig says.

"Mind if I come out and smoke?" Kenny asks, as Craig slides flip flops onto his feet and makes his way toward the door. He shrugs carelessly at that, which Kenny takes as a yes, following Craig outside with a cheerful smile on his face.

Bebe kicks her sandals off to the side before climbing in next to Clyde, who opens a can of ginger ale and takes a long swig before setting it down on the bedside table. He looks guiltily over and says, "I'm sorry I kind of messed things up with getting sick and stuff."

Bebe responds, "Don't be ridiculous, honey. You didn't mess up anything." She leans her head on his shoulder as he fumbles with one of the packages of saltine crackers, pulling one out and nibbling.

"It's nice to have so many people taking care of me, I guess," Clyde remarks, "What have you and Kenny been doing, anyway?" He nudges Bebe with his elbow and gives her weary but genuine grin.

"He asked me about my tattoo," Bebe responds.

"Oh," Clyde replies, "What did you say?"

"I told him the truth," she says, "He was actually – um, kind of sweet. I don't think he knew what to say to me, though. At least I didn't cry. That would have sucked."

Clyde wraps his arm around Bebe's shoulders and lets her cuddle into him. They don't say anything – Clyde knows that Bebe doesn't like to talk about it that much. She figures that she'll sate Kenny's curiosity eventually, maybe when they have another moment alone. He didn't ask her about the father of her baby, but she knew that he wanted to. At least it wasn't anybody that he knew. The boy had been her friend with benefits, a guy from North Park that she'd met at a party. He was cute, and good in bed, but she knew even then that he wasn't anything close to father material.

Bebe's mom had said once that maybe it was a good thing that the baby had died.

Bebe doesn't think anybody's said something so awful to her in her life, even though she knows that her mother meant well. It was after her mom had said that that she decided she needed to move out of the house and into a place of her own, but on her barista's salary she couldn't do it without a roommate.

And so she'd approached Kenny.

Clyde nurses his ginger ale and eats a couple more crackers before sinking down into the sheets, curling up in on himself while Bebe pets his hair. Even though he looks terrible, Bebe thinks that spending the morning with Craig resting must have done him some good, because he seems to be in much better spirits. It would be ridiculous to think that his fight with Craig made him sick, but it sort of seems that way, like his body couldn't take that kind of argument with him.

Craig and Kenny slip back into the room, looking relaxed and easy with each other. Craig isn't smiling, exactly, but he isn't scowling the way that he had been for most of the trip so far. He doesn't ask Bebe to move, but he does give her a look. Bebe mumbles to Clyde that Craig wants back in, something that Clyde smiles at.

Bebe slides out and lets Craig in. She's smiling too, she realizes, as she watches Craig loop an arm around Clyde, and Clyde flopping his head into Craig's lap. Bebe's always thought that there's something amazing about couples that can share silence comfortably together, and Craig and Clyde look to be some of those people, sitting together without needing to say anything, being able to do nothing but take care of each other and rest together.

"Maybe we should let them be alone again?" Bebe mumbles, touching Kenny's hand. She gets a thrill out of touching him, even if it's just a brush of their fingers. He feels nice, and sometimes touching him feels like she's being charged full of electricity. She's a little worried about sleeping him, but the feeling is overridden by being exhilarated, like she's about to go down the drop on a roller coaster. It's exciting to be with somebody that she genuinely respects, but maybe that's the scary part, too. Bebe has never had a decent boyfriend – or even fuckbuddy – in her life. Every single one seemed like a never-ending babysitting job.

Kenny is different. He knows how to hold his own. He spent most of his life looking out for himself and his sister, and continues to do so to this day. He has loves and passions and is far from stupid. He knows what he wants out of life.

It's nice.

Kenny slings an arm around her shoulder and murmurs into her ear, "Mm, you wanna make out in my car?"

Bebe laughs a little too loudly at that and shoves him, but laces her fingers through his and tugs him outside. Just outside, Bebe presses Kenny back against the door and kisses him, tugging him down by the back of his neck. He kisses back, pulling her up against him. Bebe wraps her legs around his waist and tangles her hands in his hair, tugging a little, and making him groan.

Kenny pecks her lips and hauls her to Goldilocks, setting Bebe on the hood and pushing his warm hand up under her dress, stroking along her thigh. He unlocks the doors and carries Bebe to the backseat. They laugh when he haphazardly drops her and kiss through their chuckling, Kenny crawling on top of her and closing the door. As soon as it's closed, he rests both hands on her breasts and kisses her neck.

Bebe laughs, "You're sure handsy, aren't you?"

"That a problem?" Kenny asks. He starts kissing down to her collarbone, one of his hands sliding back to push her dress up again.

"I like it," Bebe whispers. She sits up and wiggles out of her dress, letting it fall to the floor of the car.

"Awesome," Kenny responds, reaching up to thumb at one of her nipples through her bra, "'Cause I like it too. I fucking love it, actually." As if to demonstrate, he pulls down the fabric on one cup of her bra and runs his tongue over her, nosing at her cleavage with a look of bliss attached to his face.

Kenny announces as he runs hands down both breasts, "If I had these, I'd never stop playing with them."

"You don't have them, and you still never stop playing with them," Bebe points out.

"Touché," agrees Kenny, before ducking down to tongue at them some more.

He moves down, running his hands over her thighs as he slinks back, and tugging at the panties on her hips so that they fall away. Kenny parts her legs and runs the tip of his tongue over her navel ring, staring down between her legs for a long moment. His breath is hot against her. He looks up to meet her eyes, looking lust-drunk and in a haze, and says, "You got the prettiest cunt, sugar."

Bebe moans at that, tingling at the words, and pressing closer to his face. She should be embarrassed. They're in a parking lot, for fuck's sake. But God, she just _needs _him, as ridiculous as that sounds. She's never needed somebody to touch her more than she needs Kenny to do it now. He leans down, parting to lick inside her, sucking gently. She can't help the noises that escape her, whining and high pitched and needy.

"Nobody's ever made me feel this good," Bebe groans out, gripping onto his shoulders.

Kenny moans helplessly, the sound muffled by her own body. He works harder, gripping into her hips and digging his fingers into her skin as he pulls her closer. Bebe barely has time to moan out his name before she's coming, and she's coming hard. She doesn't think she's ever felt quite like this before, so amazing and blissed-out.

Kenny pulls back and presses a kiss to her stomach before crawling up to lie down beside her. He pulls Bebe up against him, cradling her. He's hard against her leg, breathing hard and sweating a little from the heat of the car. He rests his forehead against hers and kisses her slowly, eyes closed. One of his hands is on her back, stroking over the same spot.

He's running his hand over her tattoo. His breathing is quiet – when Bebe opens her eyes, he's focused on the sparrow on her back. He shifts back, staring at it for a long, long time before he leans over and presses the softest, gentlest kiss to it.

"I'm sorry about your baby," Kenny tells her, "You're one of the best people that I know. You didn't deserve something like that, sweetheart."

His words make Bebe hurt everywhere inside her. It's the nicest thing that anybody has ever said to her about her loss. He didn't say something like 'it was for the best,' and he didn't tell her how irresponsible she'd been in the first place. He understood her pain. Perhaps not fully, but on a level that Bebe hasn't been understood before.

Bebe sits up and urges Kenny onto his back. She unbuttons his fly slowly, teasing her hand over the length of his erection, smiling widely all the while. Kenny starts panting again, holding his hands in his hair and thrusting up into her palm through the fabric. She pushes down his jeans and frees him, wondering if she should tell him that he has a fantastic dick.

Bebe ducks down and licks along the shaft, before moving up and laving the head.

Kenny cries out, "Jesus fucking Christ, Bebe!" like he'd expected something different, but tangles his hands in her curls and urges her down over him. She takes the head into her mouth and sucks softly – Bebe knows how to give head, and give it well. She doesn't just hand it out, though. It has to be earned. And Kenny McCormick has certainly earned his little pleasure. She begin bobbing her head, working him in and out of her mouth. He bucks up into her, hitting the back of her throat, but she doesn't gag.

"Ah, God," he breathes out, "I'm gonna come. Fuck."

He does, and Bebe swallows before pulling off of him, pulling his underwear back over him, and grinning.

"I think that was easily the best makeout session of my life," Bebe says, leaning down to kiss him.

Kenny kisses her back, and then shifts so that they settle with her on top of him. He strokes her hair and kisses her brow, all spent and worn out, his eyelids drooping and his cheeks red. Kenny holds her against him for several silent minutes before he says, "Guess we need to find something to do for the rest of the day, huh?"

Bebe groans, but she agrees. They slip back into the motel room after Bebe redresses and clean themselves up, wiping the sweat from their bodies and reapplying deodorant. They talk quietly in the bathroom, agreeing to go see a movie and to return after that.

"We could always gamble," jokes Bebe, "It is Reno, after all."

Kenny shakes his head at that and snaps, "No fucking way." There's a pinch between his brows and his jaw is set with anger – Bebe hadn't expected to see this, and she wonders if she said anything wrong. But she knows she couldn't have.

She holds her hands up at that and responds, "Whoa, all right. It was just a suggestion."

Kenny runs a hand through his hair and says, "I'm sorry. I just – I don't want to fall into that trap. My mom and my brother gamble a lot. They're both poor as dirt and come to me to hit me up for money, which they waste away, too. I think I could get that way, you know? I kind of – have an addictive personality. I don't want to lose my hard-earned pay on a game of chance. I just don't."

Bebe frowns and rubs his back, leaning over to kiss his shoulder. When she looks back up, Kenny is staring at their reflection and she can't help but stare, too – they look like they belong together. There's just something about how she's leaned against him and how his eyes soften when he notices that she's looking too that makes her heart pound a little harder and her stomach knot up into bunches.

The movie that they agree to see is some mediocre action flick, something that Bebe can zone out to and still know what's going on if she decides to give it her full attention. She's far too concentrated on the arm that Kenny has around her shoulders. He does that all the time, she knows, and did it even before they were sleeping together. She doesn't know why she notices it now, but she does, and she likes it.

She's also a little terrified by all of this. She and Kenny had good reasons for never sleeping together, though reason seems to have flown out the window at this point. She's afraid that by doing all of this that they've forfeit the good that they already had together, without the sex.

But she doesn't want to stop doing something that makes her feel so incredible.

Though Kenny seems to be at least as confused as she is.

Bebe leans her head on his shoulder, eyes toward the screen but attention on him. He absently strokes through her curls, glancing over when he feels her eyes on him.

Oh, God.

This is getting dangerous fast. Bebe feels warm and full and _whole_ when he looks at her that way, his guard down and an easy smile on his face. He is free to be himself with her, just as she can be herself with him – and she could probably tell him anything and he'd still love her, no matter what that thing was. She wanted to cry in the car when he kissed her tattoo and told her that she hadn't deserved to have a miscarriage.

"You okay?" he asks.

"Just lost in thought," Bebe answers.

When the movie ends and they return to the motel, Clyde isn't in bed, and Craig is playing on his laptop, looking focused. Bebe sets her purse down before she ventures to ask, "Where the hell is Clyde?"

"He felt better, so he's taking a shower," Craig absently replies.

On cue, Clyde emerges from the bathroom wearing only a starched white towel and a smile. The color is back in his cheeks, and though he looks a little rough around the edges, he doesn't look ill anymore.

"Hey," he greets.

"How are you feeling?" Bebe asks.

Clyde shrugs, "A little queasy, I guess, but a lot better than before. I kind of want to get out of this motel room."

"It doesn't seem like there's a lot to do here unless you're into gambling or clubbing," Bebe shrugs. She flops onto the bed she's sharing with Kenny and blows all of the air out of her lungs, running her hands through her hair. To be honest, she's bored, too, and is beyond ready to get out of Reno and into the next place, stat.

"Clubbing sounds okay," Clyde says, "Anything to get out of here."

"Are you sure you're up for that?" asks Craig. He rubs Clyde's back a little, looking genuinely concerned.

Clyde smiles toothily and answers, "I feel a lot better, I promise."

They go out to dinner first – some sit down place with an alright sounding menu. Clyde still picks around his food a little, though he eats much more than he's been able to in the last twenty four hours. They return to the motel room to change into club-worthy clothing, though it seems like only Bebe and Craig brought things along that really work. Bebe goes in a slinky black dress that she ordered from the Victoria's Secret online catalogue, and matches it with a pair of killer red heels. Craig goes in a tight t-shirt and tight jeans with his gaudy purple boots, while Kenny and Clyde opt for everyday jeans and tees.

Bebe is certain that Kenny would look fantastic in anything he put on his body, though.

Being that it's a weekday, the club they select isn't terribly crowded. It's still hot and dark and loud inside, with music pumping bass so hard that the building seems to quake with the beat. Clyde drags Craig out onto the dance floor despite his half-hearted protests, and wraps his arms around Craig's waist, pressing their foreheads to each other as they grind to the music.

Kenny coils his arm around Bebe's waist and leans down to ask, "You wanna get a drink, baby doll?"

Bebe answers in the affirmative and they swing toward the bar. She orders two beers and hands one off to Kenny as soon as the bartender slides them over.

She and Kenny relax together on the edge of the mass of people tangled together, watching Craig and Clyde dance with each other like they're the only two people in the room. Kenny has his arm slung around her shoulder and a goofy grin on his face, sipping at his beer. He's so much more relaxed than he is back at home, a place where he has to focus on his job and his responsibilities. Here, all they have to be concerned about is this entanglement that they have with each other – something that comes with sex and extra cuddling and kisses that make Bebe's toes curl. The two sides of their dilemma balance each other out, at least for the time being.

Bebe and Kenny share a few more drinks, joking with each other and laughing with some of the people around them, before Kenny tugs Bebe onto the dance floor. He hitches her against him, grinding slowly into her, one hand stroking up and down her back. His eyes bore into hers, sending a shiver down her spine.

That's when it hits her.

She's falling for him. She's already in deep, sinking down like she's standing in a puddle of quicksand. He's sucking her into him, with those earnest blue eyes and that easy smile and the way he can jump from talking sweet to talking dirty in five seconds flat. He has no idea what he's doing to her with all this – Hell, Bebe hadn't had any idea what she was getting herself into.

Now she doesn't know if she'll ever be able to get herself out.

Bebe leans her head against his neck so he can't see the fear that surely is streaking across her face, and kisses the skin there, shrinking into him and hanging on tightly.

"You alright there?" Kenny asks her, his mouth right against her ear and his breath hot.

"Fine," Bebe says, pulling back to offer him a smile. She banks on him being too tipsy to notice that she's lying and leans up to press a second kiss to his lips.

She lets herself lose herself in the sticky beat of the music, her body moving in sync with Kenny's as they stare at each other. It's as if everybody around them falls away out of Bebe's mind, and all that remains is Kenny, giving her his wolfish grin and reaching down to rest his hand on her ass as they dance.

By the time that they're all ready to leave, all four of them are sweat-soaked and exhausted. Clyde offers to drive, being the only one that didn't imbibe alcohol. On their way out the door, Kenny stumbles to a stop and pulls his cigarettes out of the pocket of his jeans, lighting one and leaning against the brick exterior of the club to take a drag before they start walking down the block toward Goldilocks.

"That was fucking fun," he remarks, "We should do that more often."

Bebe laughs and agrees, taking the cigarette when he offers it to her and inhaling off of the end before handing it back to him.

Clyde unlocks the car, moving toward the front seat, when they hear a resounding click.

"_Don't move._"

Bebe turns. There's a man with a gun, pointing it directly at them. He looks young and greasy, like he hasn't been able to shower for days.

But before Bebe can think, Kenny pushes her behind him with enough force that she reels back into Craig, who catches her and takes a step back, holding onto Bebe's hand.

"Do it," Kenny says, marching forward. The mugger says nothing, just stares as Kenny approaches, getting so close that the gun is pressed into the center of his chest. He repeats, "I said _do it_, motherfucker."

"Kenny, don't!" she cries, "We'll just give him money or whatever he wants, it's no big deal!" She clings onto Craig and doesn't even care that it's him, just glad to have somebody to hold onto. He holds her, too, his grip iron and his jaw set with fear. He wants to run. She does, too, but she can't leave Kenny here like this. Her heart beats wildly in her chest.

"You're not going to do it, are you?" Kenny snaps. In an instant, he wrests the gun out of the mugger's hand and throws it aside onto the pavement. It goes off with a bang, and Bebe screams.

The mugger gives Kenny a final, frightened look and says, "You're fucking crazy, man!" before taking off in the other direction.

Kenny turns away and picks up the gun, emptying it of its bullets and putting the safety on. He says, "We should probably turn this in or something, huh?"

"Kenny, are you fucking insane? Why did you do that?" Bebe frantically demands, "You could have been killed!"

"I would have been fine," Kenny responds.

"Not if you were dead," she responds, voice high and hysterical, "You'd be _gone. _You shouldn't just gamble with your life like that, you fucking moron."

"Not to take sides here," Craig says, voice shaking but even, "but she's kind of right man. What the fuck?"

"Guys, chill the fuck out," Kenny replies, seemingly sobered up, "that guy was terrified. He wasn't even holding the gun right. C'mon. Let's find a police station and give this thing to the cops."

Bebe drops the subject but can't stop shaking, even as they load into the car and start rolling down the road at Clyde's grandmother-like pace. At the police station they have to give statements, and Bebe can't stop shaking, with some combination of adrenaline and fear for Kenny's life. God, he scared the shit out of her. The policeman that takes her statement stares down her dress the entire time, even with Clyde's hoodie draped over her shoulders.

Kenny stops Bebe on their way back out and says, "Hey. I'm sorry. I would have been okay though, all right?"

Bebe can't answer. She just buries her face into his chest and hugs him as close as she can.

There's no denying it now. This boy matters to her more than she ever thought possible.


	7. Not Good for You

**Chapter Track: Untrust Us – Crystal Castles**

Kenny is in a damn good mood. He'd thought that he would get tired of so much driving, but he finds that he doesn't mind it all. It's relaxing, especially with all three of his companions sacked out. Craig and Clyde are slumped over each other in the backseat. Clyde tucked his hoodie around Craig before he fell asleep. Kenny hadn't realized how close those two are until this trip – and he thinks that if Craig had his way, nobody would have found out how much they mean to each other. Maybe it's a sign that Craig trusts Kenny and Bebe a little more than he did before, that letting them see something as sacred as the way he feels about Clyde means that they're starting to become friends.

Bebe is curled up in the seat beside him, knees up to her chin and bare feet propped up on the seat. Kenny let her wear one of his t-shirts again, one that he bought from his brother's tattoo shop. She somehow managed to transform it from a ratty cotton sheath into an actual fashion statement, which he can't understand. She's wearing leopard print leggings and wrapped a red belt around her waist.

He doesn't quite understand the point of a belt on the waist since it's not holding anything up, but he still thinks she looks damn good. Bebe always looks good, but she looks _damn_ good when she's wearing his things. He derives a strange sense of pride when she does it, almost as though he's saying _she belongs to me. _He knows logically that Bebe doesn't belong to anybody but herself, but he likes the idea that a part of her – even if it's just a little piece – might belong to him, too.

"What are you looking at, space cowboy?" Bebe mumbles.

Kenny laughs, realizing only then that her eyes are open, focused on him with a tiny smile lifting the corners of her mouth. Despite last night's fiasco and Bebe's fear for Kenny, she was too tired to stay upset with him by the time that they'd arrive back at the motel. She'd brushed her teeth and picked out her curls before changing into pajamas and flopping into bed, right next to Kenny. She'd wrapped her arms around his middle, spooning him from behind, and murmured to him, "Don't ever scare me like that again, you stupid fuck."

"I'll try, sugar," he yawned back, before shifting to loop his arm around her shoulders, pulling her in for a kiss.

It was mostly the truth – Kenny _did_ try to avoid death, if it was possible. But if somebody else might be in harm's way, he'd rather take the bullet for them – sometimes literally.

"You look real pretty in this light," Kenny responds, throwing in a wink for good measure. He reaches over and squeezes her knee, feeling his gut twist up into a pleasant, tight knot of sensation.

"You told me that last night, too," Bebe wryly responds.

"Ah, well, you'd look pretty in any light," Kenny tells her, grinning ahead at the road.

Bebe laughs at that and says, "Smooth."

"I still got it," Kenny jokes.

They fall comfortably silent, both smiling at each other. God, Kenny wishes he knew what the hell this was. He knows he's feeling something awful about her, something wonderfully, perfectly awful that makes him want to bury his face in her hair and wrap his arms around her and never let go – or alternatively, vomit. The Stan Marsh route. He never thought a girl would ruffle his feathers enough to make him feel that sick in his stomach, but there you have it. She's sitting beside him in his t-shirt, pulling her purse onto her lap and extracting a book that he loaned to her. She smells like some fruity perfume that makes his head spin, and her smile makes his heart beat faster.

He's got it bad, and hell if he knows what the flying fuck he's supposed to do about it.

Something about the way Bebe looks at him makes his toes curl and the hair on the back of his neck stand on end.

"I'm starting to get hungry." – this comes from the back. It's Clyde, who's rubbing the sleep out of his eyes with one hand while he keeps the other resting on Craig's waist while he sleeps.

"We'll stop in like thirty minutes, is that okay?" asks Kenny, "I want to get to Sacramento in plenty of time so we can get settled and explore a little."

"That's fine," Clyde nods, popping his neck.

Kenny turns up his music as they roll on, which wakes Craig. He doesn't complain, but he does fold his arms over his chest and frown until Clyde hands him his water bottle and rubs his shoulder absentmindedly. The scowl melts off of Craig's face, replaced by a subtle look of contentment. If Kenny hadn't been cooped up with Craig as long as he has now, he's not sure he would have noticed it, but he's starting to notice the little shifts of Craig's moods in ways he hadn't before.

They stop in Cape Horn. Kenny fills up the tank while Craig and Bebe slog off to use the restrooms in the gas station. Clyde taps Kenny on the shoulder while he watches the numbers fly up on the pump station, whistling something tuneless.

"Can I talk to you?" asks Clyde, voice hushed. He glances over at the gas station like he's expecting a guy with a knife to emerge from it before he glances back at Kenny, eyes wide with question.

Kenny claps Clyde on the shoulder, "Sure, man. I got your back if you got mine."

Clyde spares another look at the station before digging in the pocket of his cargo shorts. He pulls out a little black velvet box and pops it open, revealing a ring. The band is thick and the design masculine, but there are little diamonds along the rim at the top.

"Gee, Clyde, this is all happening so fast," Kenny says.

Clyde snaps the box shut and shoves it back into his pocket. He says, "It's not for you, dummy. It's – it's for Craig. I was going to wait to ask him until we got to Disneyland, but I thought we'd be there by now. I've had the ring for a year already. Do you think I should just – ask him? I'm just really nervous, fuck. I'm sweating." He wipes his palms on the sides of his shorts.

"Dude," Kenny says, "_Dude. _You know what? I bet you could ask Craig to marry you anywhere and he'd probably say yes? Even a trash heap."

"He'd be so pissed if I asked him to marry me at a trash heap," Clyde responds, laughing nervously.

"Pissed, maybe. But he'd still say yes," Kenny shrugs. He sees Bebe and Craig emerge from the convenience store side by side, not speaking, but not looking uncomfortable, either. Kenny nudges Clyde with his elbow and says, "Just go for it, man."

"I saw a waffle place when we got off the highway," Bebe says as she approaches the car, dumping her purse back into the passenger's seat before giving a long, cat-like stretch.

"Do we have to eat at another fucking waffle house?" asks Craig, giving a world-weary sigh. He doesn't sound truly argumentative, just resigned and irritable.

"Nothing quite like a stack of pancakes," Kenny says. He replaces the gas pump back in its slot before replacing the gas cap. They load back into the car. Kenny starts Goldilocks but leans over to kiss Bebe first. He tips her chin up and presses their lips together for a lingering second before pulling away, shaking his head and smiling to himself. Craig makes an exaggerated gagging noise and Bebe flips him off. Kenny chuckles at them before jetting off.

The drive to the waffle house is only a couple minutes. The parking lot is practically deserted, only a few cars. Kenny parks near the front, running a hand through his hair before he turns Goldilocks off and slides out. He'll probably have somebody else drive as soon as they finish eating. A nap sounds enticing, especially if he could fall asleep tucked up against Bebe again, surrounded by the smell of her perfume.

Clyde fidgets beside Kenny. His hand is deep in his pocket, in a fist. Kenny guesses that he's probably holding the ring box.

The hostess, a middle-aged woman with flamingo pink lipstick and pineapple earrings, seats them at a table in the center of the joint. There are a few people surrounding them nearby – a family with two squabbling children and an exhausted-looking pregnant mother, a well-dressed elderly couple making eyes at each other from across the table, a man alone in the back playing with the salt and pepper shakers, a table of rowdy teenagers speaking in rapid Spanish and laughing. Kenny relaxes in his booth and blows all the air out of his lungs. Bebe and Craig are focused on their menus. Kenny glances at Clyde, who's staring over at Craig. He catches Kenny's eye and gives him a look of question, as if to ask _Now_? Kenny just shrugs, hoping to convey _no time like the present._

Clyde clears his throat loudly and touches Craig on the shoulder. He slides out of the booth and fumbles in his pocket before clumsily lowering himself to one knee. Just about everybody in the waffle house is staring right at Clyde and Craig as Clyde brandishes the velvet box. Beside Kenny, Bebe holds a hand over her mouth and looks at him as though to ask if he knew anything about this.

Clyde opens the box and lets out a shaky breath. Craig's mouth unhinges a little. He looks as though he wants to say something but can't form the words.

Clyde's face turns pink as he speaks. He clears his throat a second time and begins, "I – I've wanted to ask this for a long time, now. I bought this ring last year, but I didn't know how to ask you. You're just – God, Craig, you're perfect. When you love something, you take care of it. You don't half-ass things like most people do. You do everything, like, wholly. I just – God, I'm babbling. I know it's not legal yet in Colorado, but when it is, will you marry me?"

Craig is silent for a long time, opening and closing his mouth like goldfish. When he manages to get something out, he asks, "Are you proposing to me in a waffle house?"

"It would appear that way, yes," answers Clyde, looking like he might faint from nerves.

Craig rubs his temple. For a horrible instant, Kenny thinks that he's about to reject Clyde. But he smiles a little and answers more quietly, "Why'd it take so fucking long, huh?"

Clyde swallows, "Does that mean yes?"

Craig's smile stretches a little, and he reaches forward to take the ring. He holds it for a moment before he says, "Yes. Of course, you idiot. Yes." He slides it onto his finger and leans down, holding Clyde's cheeks in his hands. He kisses Clyde. It's sweet, not the kind of thing that Kenny is used to seeing from Craig Tucker.

The elderly woman sitting with her husband claps her hands, smiling at the both of them. She exclaims, "How romantic!"

Craig slides back over and pats the seat next to him. He says, "C'mon, we're getting stared at."

Their waitress, apparently watching the events unfold, rushes forward when Clyde sits, holding menus in her French-manicured hands. She grins widely at them and says, "Breakfast on the house for you two," to Clyde and Craig, "Congrats."

"Well, this has certainly been an unexpected turn of events," Bebe remarks.

"I'll say," Craig dryly says, "but a good one."

After that they fall silent, scanning the menus and relaying their orders to the waitress before returning them. Craig's eyes are focused on the ring on his finger. He rotates it gently, admiring the silver with a smile.

Their food is quick to arrive and they're quick to dig in, eating without any conversation. A comfortable, friendly silence settles over them. They all seem to be in good spirits, maybe because of Clyde's proposal, or maybe because they've all reached a level with each other where they know that they can let down their defenses and just be themselves. Kenny feels confident about the rest of the day, feeling as though it'll be better than the past couple of days have been.

He's cheerful as they pay their bill and return to the car. Kenny blasts the air conditioner and instructs Bebe to drive. She hooks her iPod up to the stereo and plays something with female vocals that sounds vaguely 1990's. Kenny doesn't ask, just slouches back into the seat and closes his eyes.

Kenny dreams that he's at Disneyland already. It's sunny and colorful, everything that he'd thought that it would be when he was a kid, and all of his classmates had already been to this place when his parents couldn't afford to take their children there, even if they saved for three consecutive lifetimes. Something always took precedence, be it bills or booze. In this dream, he's there with his family. He's ten years old again, holding onto his sisters hand and pointing out Minnie Mouse – Karen's favorite character. Dream-Kevin looks like he does now, light brown hair woven back in a braid and tattoos up and down his meaty arms. But he has a look on his face like a kid, and is running up to meet Peter Pan.

That's when it switches – suddenly Kenny is himself again, flanked on either side by his mother and father. They both reek of booze and weed. He can see the track marks right below his father's rolled-up shirtsleeve. When Kenny turns up his own arms, he can see his, too.

"Kenny!"

He looks up sharply. Yards away, there's color again. Bebe and Karen are standing there, hand in hand. Bebe calls, "Kenny, come on!"

Kenny takes a step forward, but his mom and dad restrain his wrists, pulling him back, keeping him firmly rooted to the spot. Kenny cries back, "I can't!"

"_Kenny_."

Kenny jerks out of sleep. He's sticky with sweat. From the speakers, quiet, chill music is playing. It's Bebe's music. He sits up and swallows, taking in his surroundings. It was a dream, just a dream.

"You okay, solider?" Bebe asks. Her hand is on his arm, right where the scars from the track marks are, the ones that were fresh in his dream.

Kenny jerks out of her grip and runs his hands through his damp blond hair, blowing all the air out of his lungs. He replies, "Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just a bad dream."

Relief finally washes over him when he realizes that he's safe, tucked into his gorgeous car, with a gorgeous girl and some good friends. They're in California, not South Park, and he's on his way to Disneyland. Bebe frowns at him a little and asks, "You need some water or something? My water bottle's in my purse."

"Thanks," Kenny murmurs, pulling her purse from its place near his feet and into his lap. He digs around until he finds the floral-patterned bottle, uncapping it and tipping water down his throat. He replaces it and sets the bag back down by his combat boots before leaning a little and massaging Bebe's shoulder absently, wishing that they weren't in a car with two other people, and that they could be alone in their own room. He could use some nudity right now.

"Kenny, I'm trying to drive," Bebe warns, but she's smiling.

"What are we going to do in Sacramento?" asks Clyde.

"I dunno," shrugs Kenny.

"When you said that you wanted to stop there, I thought you had a basic idea of what you wanted there," Craig sighs, but his tone isn't hostile. He just shakes his head in a way that says that he knew that this would happen and leans his chin on Clyde's shoulder. Kenny watches in the rearview mirror as Craig strokes a lock of brown hair back behind Clyde's ear and murmurs something to him.

"Hey, secrets don't make friends," Kenny calls at them.

Craig rolls his eyes and responds, "I've been told it's not socially acceptable to divulge the details of one's sex life, McCormick."

"Sure it is," Kenny responds cheerfully, "While you and Clyde were getting cozy yesterday, Bebe and I –"

"Kenneth McCormick, do not dare," Bebe says. She smacks his upper arm and turns to glare at him for a moment before focusing back on the road in front of her.

"I'm just saying," Kenny says, "when we get to Sacramento, I won't complain if there's naked napping in store."

"I am not getting naked with you," Craig replies pointedly.

"I was talking about me and Bebe, dumbshit," Kenny snips, "Do you have tits, Craig? I don't see any. I'm into tits."

"Kenny, for the love of God and all that is holy, contain yourself," Bebe sharply says.

Kenny exaggerates a sigh and says, "Alright, alright. Just having a little fun."

The car falls silent again, only the sound of tires on pavement and a soft beat puncturing the noiselessness. Kenny pulls the copy of Game of Thrones out of Bebe's purse and starts reading at the beginning – he can't stomach falling asleep, not after his nightmare. He still feels a little sick when he thinks about it, and finds his hand flying up to rest in the crook of his elbow, covering up the marks. He knows they're already camouflaged underneath layers of colorful tattoo ink, but when he thinks too hard on the scars, he feels as though everybody can see right through him. It's like they know everything about his sordid past, even though he knows that none of his companions do. Just family. They keep it there, in the family. It's a bit of an inheritance in any case.

Kenny started reading after he moved in with Bebe. He hadn't really been into it before – even for school assignments, he typically checked the Cliffnotes and half-assed his way through the tasks. He'd always known that he wasn't fated for scholarly pursuits. Kenny is, and has always been, good with hands. Sex, cars, and not too shabby at cooking spaghetti. That's him.

But when he and Bebe signed that lease together, there was a subtle shift. Suddenly he didn't mind being idle as much, as long as he wasn't idle alone. He could sit quietly and read, as long as he knew that Bebe was in the next room writing, and Hufflepuff was curled up against his thigh. It wasn't a feeling that he was used to – the constant companionship. As soon as Karen went off to school, he lost what little he had of it in his childhood home. He might have had something if Kevin had been around, but Kevin had moved out when he was sixteen years old and never looked back.

Whether it was the move out of his parents' house, or Bebe, Kenny had been changed. He knows it was a change for the better.

They arrive in Sacramento in comparatively shorter time than they have any of their other destinations. Even though they weren't in the car for even three hours, Kenny's still relieved when they find a motel to pull into and he can work the kinks out of his body. It's a little cloudy, a nice change from the unrelenting heat that has been consistent throughout their entire trip, regardless of location.

As soon as they're in the room, Kenny curls up onto the bed, holding a pillow over his head. He realizes that he's exhausted. He didn't sleep well in the car because of his nightmare, and last night's mugger fiasco made Bebe's sleep fitful – and in turn, his. When Bebe gets stress dreams, she can become a hell of a kicker in her sleep.

He listens to the other set their stuff down, huffing as they move it along. A moment later, he feels a hand on his back and the mattress sag beside him.

"Hey, you okay?" Bebe asks.

Her voice washes over him pleasantly. Kenny smiles into the sheets.

He answers gruffly, "Yeah, just beat. I think I need some real sleep before we go making any decisions about today," he removes the pillow from his face and turns to face her to add, "unless you guys wanna go out and do something while I pass out."

"That's okay," Bebe says, rubbing his back, "I can stay with you."

"I need a nap too," Clyde pipes up.

Kenny hooks an arm around Bebe's waist and yanks her in close. She laughs, pressing into him as he presses lazy kisses against her neck. Her curves fit perfectly against him – he feels like he could fucking live in these curves.

"Clyde and I manage to keep ourselves in check around you," Craig clips out from across the room, "You could extend us the same courtesy."

Kenny gives a dramatic roll of his eyes only to tease a chuckle out of Bebe and says, "Sorry about that, man," but he leans down and kisses Bebe's earlobe, murmuring, "I'm not sorry."

Bebe laughs. Though she looks just as worn out as Kenny feels, she smiles and kisses him. She closes her eyes and wriggles up as close against him as she can. Kenny strokes his hand down her back, watching her silently. He's surrounded by a combination of her perfume and the smell of his clothes, an aroma that makes his chest thick and heavy with the same feelings he's been getting every time she's close for longer than he can say. They go deeper though, making him feel leaden and full in a way that he doesn't think he's ever felt before.

Kenny decides not to dwell on it. Instead, he brushes his lips against her forehead and closes his eyes, too, letting himself relax into their embrace. He falls asleep within moments, all wrapped up in warmth and the heavy, pleasant feeling that's consuming him. His sleep is thankfully dreamless.

He wakes before Bebe does. On the other bed, Clyde is wrapped around Craig, like his big body is a blanket. Craig looks so small tucked against his boyfriend – fiancée, Kenny thinks – like that. Kenny wonders if Bebe looks like that when she's all nestled against him like she is now. Granted, Kenny is much skinnier than Clyde, and Bebe is much curvier than Craig. But Craig and Clyde look _right _together. He can't help but want to know if he and Bebe look the same way.

He hopes that they do.

"Penny for your thoughts?"

Kenny looks down, and sees Bebe blinking back at him, all big blue eyes and long eyelashes. He hums and presses a few lazy kisses to the side of her face. He murmurs, "Just thinking about how nice you fit against me."

Bebe tilts her head to kiss him and Kenny kisses back, falling into the movement naturally. Bebe parts from him to say against his ear, "You always say the nicest things."

"Do I?" Kenny asks, lifting a brow. He hadn't quite noticed, but he still says, "Maybe you just inspire nice things out of me."

Bebe laughs and comments, "You are such a flirt."

To his dismay, she disconnects from him, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed. She stretches and yawns, ducking down to rummage in her purse. Bebe retrieves her phone and lies back on the pillow beside Kenny's head again as she plays with it. Kenny watches her silently, running his knuckles over the light freckles on her shoulders.

"We could go to a concert tonight," Bebe suggests, "Crystal Castles is here tonight."

"Crystal Castles?" Kenny echoes, "I have no idea who that is."

"They're the electronica CD that's always in my car," Bebe says.

"Ah," Kenny says to that, "Let's go then. Why not?"

Bebe shifts to look over at Clyde and Craig. They're awake, though barely, still yawning and shifting out of their sleep. She asks, "You guys wanna go to a show tonight?"

"Do we actually have an option?" Craig moans into his pillow.

"We should go," Clyde says, "It'll be fun. Come on."

As it happens, Clyde seems to be able to convince Craig into anything. After they've done a little exploring of the city and have had a dinner, Craig begrudgingly dresses for a night out with his tight pants and purple boots. Clyde kisses him and tells him that he looks wonderful, and Craig pretends that he isn't pleased. They walk even closer than they did at the start of the trip, hand in hand, smiling at each other like they're the only two people in the entire world.

The concert venue is only a little further into town than their motel. Kenny parallel parks a few blocks away. As they walk toward the venue, he links his arm around Bebe's waist and noses at her hair. He asks, "There an opener before the main event?"

"Yeah, somebody called DJ Nervous Wreck," Bebe shrugs, "I'd never heard of him, but I listened to some of his stuff earlier today. He's pretty good."

The venue isn't very crowded when they duck in, only a few people scattered around the place and a couple at the bar. On the stage, the opener is setting up his stuff. He's tall and thin, with a wild mane of blond hair.

A _familiar _man of blond hair.

"Holy shit, that's Tweek," Clyde says, "Tweek!"

Tweek jerks to look for the source of the voice. His face goes slack at the sight of them all. He jumps off of the stage and stalks over to them, disbelief stark on his face. He exclaims, "No fucking way! I haven't seen you guys in – in years! Jesus, what are you doing here?"

"We're on our way to Disneyland," Kenny says.

"I had no idea that you were in California," Clyde exclaims, "You don't have Facebook or anything – otherwise we could have like, planned a visit."

"I'm not putting my information on the internet, man," Tweek responds, "That shit is there forever. Are you and Craig holding hands? Are you guys finally together? Token and I thought you'd get together by the end of high school, but it never happened."

Craig holds up his left hand, putting his ring on display. He says, "As of this morning."

"Holy shit, man! How exciting! Dude!" Tweek runs both hands through his wild blond hair and says, "Finally, man." He launches forward, looping an arm around Clyde and Craig's neck and tugging them in close. He pulls back after only a second and mutters something about them smelling like motels.

"I've gotta go set up, but I'll talk to you after my set, okay?" Tweek says. He jogs back to the stage and leaps up onto the stage in a surprisingly graceful arc. He returns to work on his array of instruments, testing and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.

More people file into the venue, mostly younger people, fashionably dressed and chattering excitedly. Kenny swings on his heel and retreats to the bar, retrieving two beers. He takes a sip out of one and hands the other to Bebe before ducking to press a kiss to her cheek with a wicked gleam in his eye. She returns the look, smiling to herself. Up on stage, the microphone squeals when Tweek touches it. He shrieks and leaps back, and has to have a staff member help him with it, giving Tweek a reassuring pat on the knee as she adjusts it.

The lights dim and Tweek blinks against the stage lighting. He wets his lips and taps his finger on the microphone and stammers out, "Hey. I-I'm DJ Nervous Wreck. I hope you enjoy the show." He looks pants-shitting scared, but he turns to his equipment anyway. He swallows a lump in his throat before lifting up his hand, tapping his beaten tennis shoe on the stage, and diving into a song with a thick beat and high synth.

Bebe sways to the beat of it, taking a long swallow of beer as she moves gently against Kenny. He feels the heat in his body rise, wanting more, but not here, where everybody can see. He feels like he's going to need to get drunk to avoid wanting to sling Bebe over his shoulder and fuck her in the backseat of his car – he know she would hate that.

Kenny puts his hand on her arm and murmurs, "You're teasing, sugar."

"Sorry," she whispers, but she turns to kiss him and laughs under her breath against his ear, "I'm not sorry."

Kenny tips back his beer, draining it, and says, "I'm going to get another."

Bebe gives him a look that makes his toes curl in his boots, but he makes himself tear away from her, throwing away his plastic cup and ordering another, passing dollar bills to the bartender. He takes a couple of solid swallows before returning to Bebe's side. Kenny allows the alcohol to settle over him, making him feel warmer, looser, less aware. It's not much yet, but he's starting to feel it, just a little, like something buzzing in the back of his brain.

Tweek's music is hypnotic. He doesn't sing for several songs, and when he does several songs later, his voice is distorted, robotic and confident. He doesn't look nearly as scared as he did when he started his set, like he's fallen into the same trance that the audience has under the music, bobbing their heads and swaying to the sound, eyes closed as if in a trance.

Bebe keeps moving against Kenny, her curves soft against him and fitting perfectly in his hands.

Tweek's music stops but she stays tucked against him. Someplace in the mix, he lowered his lips to Bebe's neck to kiss the skin there, nipping and gently kissing.

"So, you two are an item too?"

Kenny jerks up. Tweek is looking at them with his arms folded, one brow high on his forehead.

"Don't you have music to be playing?" Kenny retorts, kissing the top of Bebe's head and smoothing his hand over the curve of her hip.

Tweek merely shoots Kenny a look and responds, "I already finished my set and cleaned up my shit. Where have you been?"

"Kind of drunk," Kenny shrugs, realizing that somehow he managed to lose track of the number of beers that he has consumed, "Kind of want another beer, actually."

"Well, as soon as you're done with that, there's somebody I want you to meet, okay?" Tweek says. Kenny rolls back to the bar. The bartender gives him an eye, like she knows that Kenny really shouldn't be having more to drink, but she still pours another, sliding it to him and snatching up the money that he leaves behind.

Tweek grins when Kenny sidles up to Bebe, hooking an arm around her waist, and gestures wildly for them to follow him. Clyde shrugs and they trudge after Tweek, who's making a beeline for the reserved area of the venue. He taps a pretty Asian girl on the shoulder.

To everyone's equal surprise, she launches up onto her feet, coils her arms around Tweek's neck, and kisses him. Tweek kisses back for a short moment before breaking away. He rubs a hand over the fine bones in the girl's back and waves a hand at Kenny and the three others. He says, "These are my friends from high school – Kenny, Bebe, Clyde and Craig. Guys, this is my girlfriend, Sylvia."

Sylvia is significantly shorter than Tweek, more than a head under him. She has on a bright blue and white polka-dotted dress and green converse – and looks about as quirky as Kenny knows that Tweek is. She cheerfully greets, "Hey! I've heard a lot about Craig and Clyde – not as much about you two, though."

"Craig and Clyde are engaged!" exclaims Tweek. He snatches Craig's wrist and yanks him forward, putting Craig's ring on display, "See!"

"Oh, wow," Sylvia comments, "Cool!"

Craig preens a little at the attention. Kenny gets the feeling that he enjoys showing off his ring, though Craig would probably never own up to that. He says, unable to reign in the smugness back from his voice, "He asked me this morning."

Clyde preens too, though he is more subtle than Craig.

On stage, the members of Crystal Castles are setting up their equipment with the help of the venue's staff. Kenny downs the rest of his beer. He's gone now, swaying where he stands. He probably shouldn't have consumed so much damn beer, but it's too late to go back now. He figures he'll just ask Clyde to drive them back – he's the safest driver of the lot.

On cue, Bebe says, "Maybe you should give me the keys to Goldilocks, huh?"

"Prolly," he agrees. Kenny digs in his pocket and passes them over. Bebe tucks them into her purse and leans up to kiss his cheek.

"Sylvia proposed to me," Tweek says, "But we actually agreed not to do it yet – 'cause, uh, we wanted to wait until all of the states have legalized gay marriage. But I want to marry her, 'cause she's so fucking nice – a-and she doesn't leave her shit everywhere, she hates germs too. Isn't that awesome?"

"That's dumb," Craig says, "You have the right, enjoy it."

Clyde gives Craig a stern look and responds, "I think it's sweet."

"They're cute together," Bebe remarks.

Kenny nods, not really hearing what she says to him, exactly. He replies, "We're cuter."

"We are?"

"Mm," he answers, and he kisses her.

Bebe splits the kiss first and shakes her head. She says, "C'mon, we don't want to be _that_ couple. I mean – you know what I mean." She turns pink, visible even in the dim light of the venue.

Kenny's mouth quirks up on one side and he says, "Yeah, I know."

The crowd is thick now, making the room hot and heavy. It smells like beer, sweat and faintly of weed, though Kenny suspects that most people have their pipes stowed away for the main event. He disengages from Bebe to pay for another beer. His world is hazy now, swimming in his eyes. He's happy, so fucking happy. He doesn't remember the last time he was ever this drunk, but he feels like this whole place is an enormous party that he can't get enough of.

Kenny sloppily stumbles to Bebe and slurs out, "Imma get in the mosh."

He doesn't hear Bebe's response, just makes his way through the crowd as the music goes on. The bodies around him are hot and slick with sweat, shoving against each other, smoking and cheering. Being skinny, Kenny fits through spaces as the crowd breathes and shifts with the music. He makes his way up to the front and throws himself into it without even thinking. He cheers and laughs and wishes that he had more beer.

He's squished between a thin girl with a pixie cut and a meaty guy that seems to have gotten the idea that it's acceptable to remove his shirt in the middle of a mosh pit. Kenny would probably care if he was less drunk.

"Hey, you're pretty," he shouts at the girl, laughing. It's true. Her eyes look like the kind of eyes that fairies and elves have in movies, but she looks like she's handling the mosh better than most around her, sticking people with her sharp elbows and kicking with her heavy boots.

She grins a Cheshire cat grin at the words and yells back, "You're pretty too!"

She's fucked up, more than he is. Someplace in his mind, he knows this, but his mind isn't working right. When she wraps her skinny fingers around his wrist and tugs him out of the mosh, Kenny doesn't think about it. He does as he's always done when a pretty girl has ahold of him.

He follows.

She pulls him out where the air is cooler, just by a little, and they can both breathe. The music is still echoing in his ears. He can't tell what the words are to the song, but it makes him dizzier, stupider.

It's as though Kenny's fallen back through time and space, back into a former version of himself, when the track marks on his arms were fresh and he hadn't become ashamed enough of them to have his brother tattoo camouflage over the evidence. He'd been too delirious, far more gone than he is now – though he feels hypnotized here, like he's lost in the wrong year.

When the pixie girl leans up to wrap around him and bring Kenny into a kiss, he does as he always has, and kisses back. She tastes like weed and beer, all earthy, the taste of partying. When Kenny pulls his head back, he laughs, ducking into kiss again.

But a little flutter of surprised movement in his peripheral vision has his head twisting to the side.

The side of him where Bebe has dropped a cup of beer.

She turns on her heel and runs away.

**o.o.o.o**

**I'm so sorry that this took so long.**

**Excuses: a) I suck. b) I got into Doctor Who.**

**Thank you so much for the support of my readers and reviewers, hearing from you guys really makes my days!**


	8. All Right, Already

**Chapter Track: Float On – Modest Mouse**

Kenny doesn't arrive back at the motel until dawn nearly touches the horizon, the sky a hazy gray blue. He thanks the guys that gave him a lift back and stumbles from their beater car, tripping in the middle of the parking lot. For a moment, he stays on his hands and knees, dizzy as all hell. He tries to steel himself for what might be waiting for him in the room, but he's too drunk to be prepared for anything. That's okay, maybe, because that means he's too drunk for feelings, too.

He fumbles for the key card in his pocket. It takes a few tries to get their room's door open.

Bebe isn't in their bed.

She's tucked between Craig and Clyde on theirs, asleep with one of Clyde's thick arms draped over her waist. Craig is awake, and has one lamp still on while he messes around on his phone. He glances up when Kenny drags himself in, and sets the cell aside.

"You're fucked," Craig says.

Kenny drags a hand through his hair, "Yeah, yeah, I know. Fuck off."

"I'm not kidding around," Craig says. He lifts his plucked brows high into his hair and folds his arms as he goes on, "Seriously, man. That was some fucked up crap you pulled."

"I was drunk," defends Kenny, and then amends, "I am drunk, whatever."

Craig rolls his eyes and responds, "Whatever you say." Kenny waits for him to dive into a lecture, but Craig flicks his lamp off and settles back into his pillow, shifting so that his hand rests over Clyde's, where he's draped over Bebe's body.

Kenny doesn't like this. He tries to come up with something to say, a clever retort, maybe, or possibly an apology. He comes up short and trips through the dark room to the empty bed on the right. He kicks his shoes off and collapses on the mattress.

Maybe if he just sleeps this off, he'll be okay.

But he isn't, of course.

Kenny wakes to the sun searing his eyes. The curtains are wide open. The heat of the sunlight made him sweat bullets in his sleep.

"Jesus Christ," he groans, and pulls his pillow over his head. He moans into the sheets, "What the hell time is it?"

Kenny doesn't get a response.

When he dares to pull the pillow away, the motel room is empty. The bags and suitcases are still open and on the ground, and the other bed is unmade with Clyde's camera sitting in the center of the mess. It smells like shampoo and hot water, but when Kenny shoves himself up onto his feet and tromps to the bathroom, there's no one there, either.

Whatever.

He pulls the curtains closed and sheds his jeans from last night, crawling back into the bed. He's some combination of still drunk and really hungover, and before he can he even close his eyes again, his stomach does a flip and he finds himself sprinting to the bathroom so that he can vomit.

Kenny rests his cheek against the toilet bowl. Last night – what the hell happened last night? He remembers most of it, but it comes to him slowly, like thick molasses in his brain. The show. Tweek. Lots of beer. _Lots and lots and lots _of beer.

And Bebe.

Damn it.

This is…not the first time that he's fucked somebody over like this, unfortunately. He never wanted to do it to Bebe. That's why their old arrangement was such a good idea – he could just be friends with her, and that was fine, because sex complicates things sometimes and he didn't want to complicate things with Bebe. What they had was simple.

And now it's really not.

Christ, he is too hungover to be thinking like this.

Kenny peels his cheek off of the toilet seat and wobbles as he stands, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He ducks back into the room briefly to check the clock – it's only a little past ten in the morning. Way too early to be awake for the night that he had, but he doesn't think there's any turning back now that he's on two feet.

Kenny collects a fresh set of clothing and sets it on the bathroom counter. He feels to crappy to sing to himself as he scrubs, and makes quick work of getting clean.

When he pokes his head out of the room, fully dressed with hair damp and neatly combed, Bebe is there. She's sitting on their bed, the one that she wasn't in last night, picking at the hem of her dress.

Only Bebe.

"Hey," he chokes out.

Bebe lifts a hand in greeting. She holds up a coffee and says, "Thought you might want this."

"Seriously?" Kenny says. He takes it from her and adds, "You're an angel."

Several seconds of awkward silence pass before he dares to ask, "Where are Craig and Clyde?"

"They wanted to hang out with Tweek," Bebe answers, "For old time's sake, I guess." She doesn't look him in the eye as she speaks, and it makes him feel like such shit. He doesn't know how the hell he's supposed to handle this.

"Um," he says, but doesn't get anything else out.

"Anyway, I thought you'd still be asleep now," she says, "You look like hell."

"I know," Kenny responds, "Hey, sugar, about last night –"

"Don't worry about it," Bebe says. She shakes her head, and when she looks back up at Kenny, there's a smile-but-not-really-smile on her face that makes him feel queasy all over again. She goes on, "Look, we knew this was all a bad idea. Somewhere along the way I got it in my head that if it was _me_, things would be different, which I know sounds stupid on about twenty different levels. So can we just – put it past us? Go back to being friends? I think I liked us better that way."

Kenny did not know that being dumped could make him feel like such shit. Everything hurts. His head, his guts – everything. He feels his stomach sink low, and he wants more than anything to say no to Bebe. He wants to her no, he likes what they became, he likes the kissing and the touching and the sex and the cuddling. He loves all of it.

But he says, "Yeah, that's a good idea," instead.

"Good," Bebe agrees, "I'm glad that we're on the same page."

Awkward silence falls, and after a couple minutes of Kenny shifting back and forth on his bare feet while he sips at the coffee she bought him, Kenny flops back onto the bed, a safe distance from where Bebe is sitting. She scoots back and picks up Game of Thrones from her purse and cracks it open – he guesses that they're done talking, or at least that Bebe feels that they're done. Kenny doesn't feel as though anything is done, or resolved, at all.

Maybe he should text Stan.

"Hey, Bebe?" Kenny pipes up.

"Mm?"

"Look, I'm really sorry about the stuff that happened," he finishes lamely.

Bebe eyes him and responds, "I thought we talked this out, Kenny. I know you're sorry. It's done, and we're back to being friends. It was a nice interlude."

"Interlude?" echoes Kenny. He tries to decide whether or not he should be offended by that sentiment.

"Yeah," Bebe says, "Something different from what we usually have. Now we know what stuff it would lead to, so we can go back and no hard feelings."

Kenny rolls over and grabs for his phone. He grinds out a terse, "Excuse me," before pocketing a room key and ducking outside. He dials Stan's number with angry punches of his thumb.

It rings twice before Stan picks up with a, "What's up, man? Your turtle isn't dead, I promise."

"What did you do to Donatello?" demands Kenny, and then, "Nevermind. Dude, I'm in a bit of a bind. Hang on." He tromps away from the motel room and down the street, someplace more private.

"What's going on? This is your vacation, man. And you'd better not be asking me for money," Stan says.

"No, man. It's – some stuff happened with Bebe," Kenny says, lowering his voice.

"Your tone suggests that you're not talking about the good kind of stuff," Stan responds.

Kenny blows all the air from his lungs as he walks and fumbles in the pocket of his jeans, pulling out his half-smoked pack of cigarettes. He lights one and drags in before he responds to Stan, "Okay, so it started out with good stuff. We fucked around, like a lot. And I really liked that, you know? And so we go to this show last night, and I'm pretty trashed. This pretty girl comes onto me, and I just – you know. And now Bebe's all 'It was a nice interlude' or whatever. What the hell does that even mean?"

"Um, it means you fucked up," Stan replies.

"Thanks, Sherlock, like I hadn't figured that one out already," Kenny snips back. He smokes angrily. It feels impossible to shake this frustration. He just – doesn't want to feel like this. His insides are squirming and uncomfortable. He sighs, runs a hand through his hair, and goes on, "So, like, what do I do, dude?"

"I don't know man, women are hard," Stan shoots back, but adds, "Apologize, maybe?"

"I did that," Kenny says.

Stan pauses before he answers, "Look, dude. I don't really know. I don't date. You're the one that's been living with Bebe this whole time. I know I'm not helping, but like – figure it out. You know her better than I do."

Kenny crushes his cigarette underneath his boot and nods, even though he knows that Stan can't see him.

"Thanks, dude," he says, "even though you didn't really do anything."

"I try," Stan says back.

Kenny hangs up the phone and pockets it. He supposes that the smartest option is to let himself think about it, maybe when he's not hungover and angry and sore inside. He walks the short distance back to the motel.

Goldilocks is parked outside again.

"Looks like they took good care of you, lady," he remarks to the vehicle, and pats her hood before traipsing back to the room and sliding the key card into the door.

"Hey guys," Kenny says, "You weren't gone with Tweek long."

"Nah," Clyde replies, "he was supposed to go on a date with Sylvia or something. That's so weird – him having a girlfriend, I mean."

"If one of you drives, I was thinking we could head out in an hour or so," Kenny says.

Craig eyes him, one brow cocked, and asks, "Are you sure? You look really hungover."

"I am really hungover," replies Kenny, "I'll sleep in the backseat with my sunglasses on. Bebe got me coffee. I'll be fine." He thinks. He's still pissed – at himself, mostly – but he doesn't want to dig himself any deeper than he already is.

By the time that they are packed, loaded into the car, and checked out, it's almost one in the afternoon. Clyde takes the keys for Goldilocks and they head out. Bebe instructs him on how to reach the highway from the backseat while Kenny curls up and sips his coffee, silently thanking God for tinted windows.

"I think the drive all the way to Disneyland is going to be too long with traffic," Craig mentions.

"Wait, then where am I going?" asks Clyde.

"Calm down," Craig snips at him, and takes his phone out of his jacket to pull up a map. He thumbs down a zoomed-in California and suggests, "Bakersfield?"

"I'm fine with whatever," Kenny mumbles, "As long as we get to Disneyland eventually. I want to meet Princess Jasmine, okay."

"So we've heard," Bebe pipes up from beside him. Kenny glances over at her, and his heart sinks a little lower into his gut. After years of rooming together, he knows when she feels like shit, even – maybe especially – when she's trying to mask it.

Kenny offers a smile and she turns away from him, staring out of the window. He has a lot of things that he wants to say to her, starting with another apology, but doesn't want Craig and Clyde to have to get involved in this mess. The last person he wants involved in his love life is Craig Tucker, to be honest.

Love life.

Kenny guesses that that's where he puts Bebe in his head now. Not roommate, not best friend, not girl with amazing breasts (okay, no, she still goes there), but _love life._ He wants to bury his face in her neck and sleep there. He wants to be close enough to her that he can smell her shampoo and perfume. He wants to feel the way that her body fits perfectly against his, like they were cut out together from the same piece of paper and stuck together again.

The sun filters through the car window and into Bebe's blond hair. She's wearing one of her short little dresses, a purple one with black polka dots.

"You look nice today," Kenny whispers.

Bebe purses her lips and responds lowly, "Don't start that, Kenny."

"Start what?" he clips back, "It was a statement of fact. I could tell you that you looked nice before we started banging, in case you forgot."

"Yeah, well, that's different now," Bebe snips at him.

Clyde glances back and says, "Cut that out or I will turn this car around."

"You won't," Kenny says back, "It's my car, and this trip is supposed to be my birthday present. You know, because you all seem to have forgotten that."

Craig intervenes, "Okay, we're done here. Kenny, go to sleep or something, man."

As irritated as Kenny is, he closes his mouth and sets his chin on his knees. The jerking of the car is making him feel nauseated, so he keeps his hand on the window button in case he needs to throw up.

The feeling takes an hour to pass, and by then, Kenny starts to drift. He wishes that he could fall asleep on Bebe, because that's what he would usually do when he's as upset as he is, but that's not something that's going to fly anymore. So, he slumps over against the window on his side and lets Goldilocks rock him to sleep as Craig's endless loop of Lady Gaga carries on through the speakers.

They only stop once on the drive from Sacramento to Bakersfield to fill up on gas and empty respective bladders. Clyde complains about being hungry enough for an early dinner, but Kenny's stomach still roils at the thought of food, and he's content to keep himself holed up in the backseat on a steady diet of Advil, bottled water, and gas station coffee.

The four of them are eerily silent when they reach Bakersfield a little before seven o'clock in the evening, after having been stuck in rush hour traffic hell for longer than Kenny ever wanted to experience. They pull into the parking lot of the first motel that they see and check in, all with shadowed eyes and exhausted faces.

"You folks sure look like you had a long day," the desk attendant remarks as she takes Bebe's credit card and swipes it, "Room one-oh-six is all yours. Breakfast starts at six and ends at nine! You have a nice day."

Bebe refuses Kenny's help when he offers to take her suitcase in for him. He doesn't know whether he should be angrier or not – they're all tense from being in the car together for so long, and they haven't had a proper meal yet today, at least, Kenny hasn't. His hangover has finally waned to a background feeling, and with that came hunger.

"Do we want to get settled in and then head out to dinner someplace?" he asks.

"Can I take a nap first?" asks Clyde, "Driving that long made me so effing tired." He pops his neck and then yawns, as though to emphasize his words.

"I need one too," Bebe chips in.

That's okay – Kenny could use some time to himself to think. Now that his brain is clearer, maybe he'll be able to figure this one out.

He hopes so, anyway.

While Clyde and Bebe flop onto each of the beds, Kenny inclines his head at the motel room door and suggests to Craig, "You wanna smoke with me?"

"Sure," Craig agrees, and follows him outside.

They don't speak for a while, even after lighting up and both taking drags.

"I don't think she'd go for flowers," Kenny mentions, not sure if he's talking to himself or if he's talking to Craig. Sometimes, it feels like the same thing. He exhales a cloud of smoke and goes on, "Plus we wouldn't have anywhere to put them, even if I think she would like flowers. I don't think she'd like anything cheesy."

When Kenny looks over at Craig, he's rolling his eyes.

"Dude, don't be a dick," Kenny says.

Craig sighs and responds, "Man, why don't you just tell her that you love her? It's not that fucking hard. She loves you back. It's why she's so pissed over what – a drunk kiss at a concert? Like, who cares? But when I think about it, I think I'd be mad if Clyde kissed other people, so."

"You want me to," – Kenny cuts off.

He loves her.

Kenny McCormick loves Bebe Stevens.

"Oh, Christ, don't tell me that it didn't fucking occur to you that you're in love with her until now," Craig complains, "Clyde says you've had it bad for each other since forever ago."

"Clyde is a traitor and a scoundrel," Kenny says back.

Silence falls, and Kenny asks, "Can I just say that to her? Without, like, any gifts?"

"I don't know," Craig answers, "I always bring Clyde chocolate or Chipotle or something when I fuck up, and he always brings my guinea pigs treats if he messes up. So maybe? I'm not the one that loves her, so I'm not the one to ask."

"That's what Stan said," Kenny replies.

"Ugh, gross. Don't tell me I sound like him."

Kenny flicks his cigarette butt into the parking lot and ignores Craig, mulling over what he should do. He thinks that maybe a peace offering would be a good idea, but he doesn't know what to do – Bebe likes pugs, but he can't exactly buy her a puppy, and they already have a pug, anyway.

"Tell them I'm going out but I'll be back in like an hour that we can go to dinner," Kenny says. He ducks into Goldilocks and adjusts the seat back to his place, starting her up and rumbling down the road.

On the way into Bakersfield, Bebe had pointed out some kind of boutique that she said looked nice. Maybe he could find his peace offering there.

Kenny's heart beats a million miles a minute as he rolls along the street, looking for the place. He thinks he's spotted it when he sees a clothing shop with its name written in cursive neon lights. In the windows sits a colorful display of vintage clothing and repurposed mod furniture – exactly Bebe's kind of thing. He's been steered into more than one of these places in Denver while enjoying a weekend off with Bebe.

Kenny parks, fidgeting with his shirt as he walks into the store. The cashier is dressed in a sixties-style dress with huge red hoop earrings looped through her ear lobes.

"Can I help you find anything?" she asks, when the bell above the door jingles at Kenny's entry.

"Um," he manages – and everything spills out.

"I messed up with the girl that I love and I wanted to get her something nice and she usually likes this kind of stuff but I don't know what to get?"

The cashier laughs, "Slow down, there. Do you know her size? We got some nice dresses in the other day."

"Um. I don't know. She's got pretty big," Kenny makes a motion to his chest, "Uh, yeah. Those. She's – curvy?"

Kenny is in the boutique for longer than he meant to be, and emerges from it an hour later with a bag full of random things instead of just one – a vintage dress a little like the one the cashier was wearing, too many pairs of earrings, and a pair of white boots. They all _look_ like stuff that Bebe would like, but how is he supposed to know? It cost him a buttload of money, so he prays that this works.

He stashes the bag of goodies in Goldilocks' trunk before heading back to the motel. In the room, Bebe and Clyde are awake, looking better than they did when they first arrived in town.

"Did you see any places to eat while you were out?" asks Clyde.

"Yeah, there's some Mexican place a couple blocks away from here," answers Kenny, "That sound good to everybody?"

All three grumble responses in the affirmative. Kenny offers to drive and Craig ends up in the passenger's seat beside him. He hooks in his iPod and starts up another loop of Lady Gaga songs, and when Kenny lifts a brow, Craig mirrors him, as though daring him to dispute his choice in music.

The restaurant is fortunately cheap, and the food is pretty good. After they've eaten and paid, they're all in better spirits than they've been all day. Kenny feels ready to indulge in a post-food nap, but he's still on edge with all of this _love_ stuff, and he doesn't know that he could sleep without knowing that he tried his damnedest to make reparations with Bebe.

Back at the motel, Kenny nods at Craig and Clyde to fuck off. Craig gets the signal better than Clyde does, and takes him by the hand to guide him back into the motel room.

"Bebe, wait," Kenny says, when she moves to follow them.

Bebe exhales, "What, Kenny?"

"I, um," he fumbles with his keys and drops them on the ground. He babbles as he bends to pick them up, "I bought you some stuff from that place that you said looked cool. I wanted to say I'm sorry again."

Bebe frowns. She takes a step forward as Kenny opens Goldilocks' trunk and says, "Sweetheart – I mean. Kenny, you didn't have to do that. It's okay. We can move on."

"No!" Kenny snaps. He didn't mean for the words to come out as acidly as they do, and he says, "No, I can't move on." He yanks the bag out of the trunk and pushes it into Bebe's arms, continuing his speech before she can say anything, "I can't move on because I think I've loved you for years and I don't want to let go of that. I love you. I love you! _I love you_. I've never known somebody like you, I've never – felt this before. I feel stupid, and I feel all gross and hurt, but it's like – the best feeling ever."

Bebe stares.

"You didn't need to buy me stuff to tell me that, you know," she tells him, voice quiet.

"It's really cool stuff, though," defends Kenny.

Bebe sets the bag down on next to her feet and sweeps forward. She loops her arms around Kenny's neck and hugs him close, burying her head against his chest. After a second, Kenny wraps his arms around her back and sets his chin in her hair.

"What does – um. What does this mean?" he asks.

Bebe pulls back and stares up at him for a long moment. She reaches up and cups his jaw in her hand, stroking her thumb over the scruff.

And then, she leans up, and presses her lips back against his.

"I love you, too," she says.

**xxx**

**An…update? Yes. Yes it is. This only has one or two chapters to go! Thank you all for reading.**


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